


These Secrets That Breed Loneliness

by Kanceir



Series: These Dirty Deeds of Ours [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Violence, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drugs, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Eventual Sex, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It's Subtle, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Violence, Reunions, Sexual Fantasy, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Underage Drinking, madara is a bad influence, madara is also a kinky fuck, suggestive touching, the implication is very subtle and it does not go into detail, time lapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanceir/pseuds/Kanceir
Summary: Five years following a convoluted incident that resulted in the death of Madara's little brother, Izuna, Madara and the Senju brothers who were also involved in the incident accidentally reunite in Philadelphia after losing contact with each other. Hashirama and Madara attend the same university while Tobirama completes his senior year of high school. As details of their dark pasts slowly come to light, Madara learns how to be close to someone again and Tobirama does his best to make amends. Meanwhile, Hashirama is confused but supportive, if not intimidatingly protective.





	1. Compromise

    “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just dinner, right?”

    Madara’s eyebrow twitched. He would just as soon liken that voice to the buzz of a fly as he would the academic drive of Philadelphia University to a trash heap. Ironically enough, one happened to be the prime breeding ground for the other.

    With a sigh, Madara came to a reluctant halt and turned to face the ever-persistent man. Saburo Kazekage, the poor bastard, had been shamelessly pining after Madara since high school. Madara had agreed to go to prom with him once (one time) because the rest of his friends had bailed, and since then Saburo refused to relent. Madara supposed it should have been flattering to a degree, but after all this time, he was just tired.

    “Look, you’re nice. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you. But you have _got_ to take a hint,” he drawled. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now, nor do I plan to in the near future.”

    Undaunted, Saburo simply smiled. “Alright, that’s cool. I get it. As friends then?” he asked. Madara pitied the undernote of hope in his voice. He heaved another deep sigh.

    “...Dinner? As friends?” he asked, looking up at the man through his dark hair. Saburo nodded without missing a beat. Madara pursed his lips and regarded him a moment longer before acceding. “Fine.” The toothy grin that split Saburo’s face filled him with immediate regret.

    “Great! Does seven work?” he asked. Madara nodded wordlessly, pulling out his phone. They exchanged numbers and arranged a meeting place outside the dorms. He didn’t bother to ask where Saburo planned to take them to eat. Food was food, after all, and if he were being treated then all the better. They parted ways with a brisk farewell. Madara could already feel a migraine coming on and it was only noon.

    Don’t get him wrong. Saburo really was a nice guy. Handsome, too. He had that shaggy dark hair and flawless skin that belonged on a magazine cover, and he had these mysterious grey eyes so pale they were almost white. He was a bona fide hunk, all things considered, and in a way Madara really was flattered that he had been so persistent in his affections. However, he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He’d had his fill of that nonsense throughout high school, and right now he viewed college as his opportunity to make up for the losses he suffered academically. His grades hadn’t been deplorable by any means, but he knew for a fact that he could have done better, tried harder. He intended to make up for his carelessness via cram studying and student loans.

    “Madara!” And speaking of breeding grounds for flies…

    A tanned arm threw itself around Madara’s shoulders, pulling him toward the unfairly tall mass of muscle and naivety that was Hashirama Senju. His long brown hair was pulled back into a messy half-bun today, and Madara noted inwardly that the man would likely be using that hair as a second scarf in just one month’s time. And probably Madara’s, too.

    “What do you want? I have classes, you know,” Madara said, although he made no move to remove himself from under Hashirama’s arm.

    “I sure do. We share half a schedule,” Hashirama reminded him. “I saw you talking to Mr. Star Athlete back there.” He winked with just a little too much suggestiveness and Madara elbowed him in the side. Saburo was indeed an incredible athlete, and none too shabby in the brains department, either.

    “He asked me to dinner,” he confessed, ignoring Hashirama’s grunt of pain. “If I can just tide him over with this for now, at least until I get used to my schedule, I’ll endure.”

    “Oh, that’s cruel,” the Senju chastised. “You shouldn’t lead people on like that.”

    “I am not ‘leading him on’. I’ve explained to him numerous times that I’m not interested.” Madara sighed, hoping to convince himself, as well, that it would eventually get through to the man. “Besides, he agreed to go as friends. If he goes back on his word, that’s on him.”

    “Don’t feed stray cats, Madara. They always come back for more,” Hashirama said. Madara snorted.

    “Practice what you preach. How many stray dogs are you hoarding now? Last I remember, it was around—what? Five?” Hashirama looked away guiltily, and Madara narrowed his eyes. “How many more?”

    “Not that many…”

    “ _How many?_ ”

    “It might be, uhh… Let’s see… Around...ten?”

    Madara nearly tripped over himself at that, though Hashirama still had an arm around his shoulders to steady him.

    “Are you insane? When your landlord finds out—”

    “She won’t find out! I’ll get them back to their homes, I promise!” Hashirama said quickly.

    “That’s what you said last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.”

    “You just don’t _understand,_ ” the man whined. “They’re all so cute and fluffy and the _eyes_ —”

    “Save it.” Madara rolled his eyes, finally peeling Hashirama’s arm off of him. “We’re going to be late to class if I let you ramble about that.”

 

* * *

 

    At the end of the day, Madara returned to his dorm room to find that his roommate was already there. Yagura Yondaime was a petite thing for his age, something Madara made certain not to comment on. He knew well the wrath of the puny, and built as he was, it was surprisingly difficult to take down a human monkey. The blond looked up from his bed on the right side of the room where he lay on his stomach, kicking his feet in the air.

    “You’re dating Saburo Kazekage?” he asked promptly. Madara choked on his own spit and took a moment to clear his throat before shooting Yagura a wide-eyed look.

    “This is the first I’m hearing of it,” he said. Yagura shrugged, picking up the phone in front of him.

    “Mei said she saw you agree to hook up with him earlier today.” Fun-sized fury and gossip leech. Madara wondered why he was surprised.

    “Mei is a filthy liar who should mind her own business,” he said, returning to emptying his satchel onto his bed. He had yet to meet Mei, but evidently she was the one to go to for baseless rumours that she probably started herself. “We’re going to dinner. As _friends._ ” The bark of laughter made him glare over his shoulder.

    “Yeah, okay. Sure thing. Here…” Yagura shifted to hang off the side of his bed in order to reach something beneath it. Upon resurfacing, he threw the contents across the room and onto Madara’s bed. “Better safe than sorry.” He stared.

    “You’re going to be shitting these condoms for a week, so help me God.” He might just make good on that threat, too.

 

    As he left his dorm room to meet with Saburo, Madara rolled up the sleeves of his black button-up. It was still a little too warm for anything too fancy, and he didn’t want to risk being over-dressed should Saburo decide on somewhere less than refined. He had only changed shirts for that purpose, leaving him in form-fitting, faded grey jeans and leather boots. He lamented the lost opportunity to ride his motorcycle today; the weather seemed ideal for a long ride down to the lake. If the temperature didn’t drop too low after dinner with Saburo, he might take a ride down there anyway.

    Joining Saburo outside the dormitory, he allowed the man to lead him to his car. Saburo himself was dressed in a pale sweater and khaki pants, so Madara could assume he’d dressed appropriately enough for wherever they were going. As his car came into view, Madara couldn’t help but admire the mint condition of his 1978 Silver Anniversary Coupe. Some might have found an outdated Chevrolet clunky in comparison to today’s vehicles, but Madara could appreciate a vintage corvette. He glanced up to meet Saburo’s eyes over the top of the car.

    “This is nice as hell,” he said plainly. Saburo smiled and ran his hand over the hood lovingly.

    “She’s my pride and joy. I don’t get to take her out much, living in the dorms,” he said. “It’s been a week. I think she’ll appreciate the attention.”

    Madara snorted at the lavish phrasing as he slid into the passenger’s seat, but it wasn’t as if he had any room to talk. His ownership of a 2013 Victory Judge power-cruiser was the only romantic relationship he needed. Just thinking about her made his eyes soften.

    “So I was thinking Sona in Manayunk,” Saburo said as he pulled out of the parking lot. Madara reclined in his seat, enjoying the sleek interior of the car.

    “Sounds good. We’re getting bevs, right?” he asked.

    “There’s no point in going to a pub if you don’t get bevs,” Saburo agreed, a grin in his voice. Madara couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

    When they got there, the restaurant was still mostly empty (unsurprisingly; it was only seven o’clock), but by the time they’d ordered, eaten, and claimed stools at the bar to drink, plenty of other people had filtered in. Even the small crowd underwhelmed Madara, however. He would have thought a place like this would be busier on a Friday night, but he wasn’t going to complain. The calm drive here had vanquished the remnants of Madara’s migraine, and he found Saburo to be much better company than he had expected. He didn’t make any too-forward advances and he didn’t bring up any questionable encounters of their past. Madara was actually enjoying himself.

    By his third or fourth cocktail, Madara was more than relaxed, and he laughed heartily alongside Saburo as he told the Uchiha about all the shockingly hilarious misadventures that could occur on a basketball team. He had never held a real interest in sports before, despite Hashirama’s attempts to get him into rugby during their early adolescence, but listening to Saburo talk about his experiences piqued just a little bit of his interest. It was too late to consider sports seriously, not that he had any intention of going that far, but he thought he might go to a game once in a while. Any attempt at explaining the technical rules of basketball was quickly abandoned in light of their mutual inebriation, but he was sure he could understand it once he was sober.

    Speaking of which…

    Madara stopped laughing suddenly, drawing a confused blink from his companion.

    “We can’t drive back like this,” he said, forcing any hint of a slur out of his voice. Saburo blinked twice before realization seemed to hit him and he smacked a hand to his face.

    “Shit—fuck, I’m sorry,” he muttered from behind his hand. He sounded damn near on the verge of actual tears and Madara floundered. The last thing he wanted was to awaken a hidden sobbing drunk side of Saburo after they’d had such a fun evening together. He hesitantly placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, patting him gently as he fished out his phone with his other hand.

    “It’s fine. I can text Hashirama…” he said, squinting as he searched for the name in his contacts. Upon finding it he sent a short text, disregarding any typos, and let out a soft sigh as he leaned slightly against Saburo. “He’ll come pick us up,” he assured the other. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d found himself in this situation, nor would it be the first time he’d gone to Hashirama to help him out of it.

    Saburo simply nodded in response, lowering his hand and leaning against Madara as well. Their seats had ended up close together enough for the proximity not to be a problem. Madara was content to sit and wait for Hashirama’s reply, idly rubbing Saburo’s shoulder and calming him from that near-miss.

 

    About fifteen minutes later, Hashirama arrived at the restaurant to find the two nearly passed out on each other. Madara was gently shaken awake, and he nodded along with whatever Hashirama was saying, eyes bleary with almost-sleep. He and Saburo followed Hashirama out of the restaurant, having already paid, and their confusion upon finding Hashirama’s little brother, Tobirama, waiting for them prompted Hashirama to explain once more what he had said inside.

    “I’ll drive back with Saburo in his car and Madara will ride with Tobirama. I don’t feel comfortable putting him behind the wheel of somebody else’s car, especially not this one,” he said with a note of awe with this last. Saburo managed a half-smile at the implied compliment and made to slide into his own passenger’s seat. Madara remained where he stood, looking between Tobirama and Hashirama wordlessly.

    “Are you getting in or not? You already interrupted my night with this. Don’t waste more of my time,” Tobirama said from inside Hashirama’s car, hand poised on the horn.

    The elder Senju gave his brother a look before taking Madara by the shoulders and guiding him to the passenger’s side. Before he could open the door, Madara turned around and gripped Hashirama’s arms instead, sincere desperation in his eyes.

    “I don’t wanna die. I’m sorry for whatever I did—I don’t wanna die like this,” he rambled, clutching at Hashirama’s shirt. The man rolled his eyes and shook his head, prying off Madara’s fingers and coaxing him into the car.

    “Tobirama is a very responsible driver. He wouldn’t do anything to put your life in danger,” he said slowly, reaching to buckle Madara’s seat belt as well. The latter slapped away his hands with a huff to do it himself.

    “I want your confession to my murder in my obituary,” he muttered, crossing his arms. Hashirama just laughed and closed the door to return to Saburo’s car. Madara turned to pin Tobirama with a seething glare.

    “Keep looking at me like that and maybe I really will run us both off a cliff,” the albino said tersely.

    “I wouldn’t put it past you,” Madara said. “Not after what you did to—”

    “Shut up.” The sharp tone of Tobirama’s voice caught Madara off guard, voice dying on his lips. “I am so not up for you to blame me right now.” He peeled out of the parking lot behind Saburo’s car, causing Madara to grip the grab-handle and brace his other hand against the console.

    “Calm down, you maniac!” he hissed, refusing to loosen his grip even though the car had leveled out. “Jesus fucking Christ—”

    “It’s been five years and the first thing you try to say to me is that shit?” Madara threw Tobirama a sidelong glance, reluctant to take his own eyes off the road. In the past he would boast about being one of few to draw out the albino’s fury so quickly and easily, but right now he wished for anything but. “You never even let me apologize.”

    Those words gave him pause. He turned to look at Tobirama properly, gradually easing the tension in his body from that stunt. Tobirama’s shoulders seemed to relax minutely as well; a good sign. Madara’s silence was his cue to continue.

    “...I really am sorry. Really... _really_ sorry,” he said quietly. “I never meant for any of that to happen. I never wanted Izuna to get involved. It all happened so fast, I—” He cut off with a choked noise in the back of his throat, and for the first time in five years, Madara allowed that wound in his heart to open once more. He didn’t have the presence of mind to hide the pain on his face, but luckily Tobirama held true to Hashirama’s claims and kept his eyes on the road instead of him. “I...won’t hold it against you if you blame me for it. I should have acted faster. I should have done something, _anything._ ” The steering wheel squeezed under Tobirama’s grip. “He was my friend, too. I would give anything to go back and change things. If I could reverse our positions, I would have. You deserve your brother more than mine deserves me.”

    “Don’t say that.” Something in his voice must have caught Tobirama’s attention, be it the waver or the hushed tone he spoke in. He glanced at Madara out of the corner of his eye, doing a double-take at the sight of his expression. “Hashirama loves you. He would be just as devastated as I was if he lost you.”

    Tobirama pursed his lips, focusing his attention back on the road. “I’m just a burden to him. He has to support me through school, he has to feed me, he has to deal with being the only one with a job. I hear him talking to loan companies all the time and he always gets turned down. Life would have been ten times easier for him over the past five years if I had just—”

    “Shut up before I do something stupid and end up getting us both hurt,” Madara snapped. Glancing at the road, he gestured ahead. “Take a right here.”

    “What? Why?”

    “Just do it.”

    Under the pressure of the heavy atmosphere they had created, Tobirama complied, eyebrows drawing together as Madara gave him further directions. They ended up at a small park, barren at this time of night. Madara pulled out the key himself once Tobirama put the car in park, grasping it tightly in his hand.

    “What?” Tobirama asked, although it sounded more like a demand. Instead of answering, Madara struggled with his seat belt until he could free himself and stumbled out of the car, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. “Hey! I’m supposed to drive you back to your dorm. When Hashirama sees we’re not there, he’ll—”

    He stopped abruptly, and Madara didn’t doubt that it was due to the sight of tears spilling down his cheeks. He walked numbly around to the front of the car, leaning against the hood and bracing both hands by his sides after pocketing the key for the time being. He saw Tobirama’s tentative approach out of the corner of his eye and felt the slight dip of the car as he sat a foot or so apart from Madara in silence.

    The Uchiha let that silence drag on for a pregnant moment before speaking again, the flow of tears having waned somewhat.

    “Please...don’t ever say things like that,” he whispered. “Your brother doesn’t deserve that kind of pain. He doesn’t deserve to experience that kind of loss.”

    Tobirama said nothing. Madara took a shaky breath.

    “...I don’t blame you. Not completely. I think you were stupid for getting tied up in that mess, and I think you’re still pretty stupid, but it’s not your fault Izuna got involved.” He turned his head a little to peer at Tobirama, who looked down at his hands in his lap. “I read the reports about what you did for him. ...Thank you.”

    The boy looked up at that, as if not expecting to have heard those words, but he dropped his gaze again.

    “...You left us for five years,” he said after a moment. He fiddled with his thumbs as he spoke. “We had no idea what happened to you. You changed phone numbers, and by the time we came to check your house you had already moved.” Madara pursed his lips. “Hashirama blamed himself. For everything, even though he had nothing to do with...that.”

    “...I’m sorry,” Madara said eventually. “Everything about that place was just...a constant reminder. I saw his face everywhere I went, in everything I did, in everyone I saw. We grew up there together, and suddenly being without him…”

    “It’s like losing part of your life,” Tobirama filled in. Madara nodded mutely. Tobirama and Hashirama were not strangers to the loss of a brother. They had lost two of theirs in early childhood. Madara had lost three, and then Izuna. The world was a shitty, stupid, filthy fucking place and Madara despised it to the very core of his being, but still he clung to this desire to live. If it hadn’t been for Hashirama being in the right places at the right times, however…

    Tobirama stood from the hood of the car then, and Madara followed suit by reflex. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and then they found themselves in each other’s arms. Madara couldn’t help but notice Tobirama was taller than him and he pouted just a little, but refrained from commenting. This was a rare moment that could never be ensured in the future, so he would let it stand for what it was. He and Tobirama may not have seen eye-to-eye on many things, but he wouldn’t accuse the boy of heartlessness. At the ripe age of eighteen, he had seen too much death and had grown too quickly, in mind and soul (and body). One look at his eyes and Madara could see reflected there the same breed of sorrow that resided in his own tired eyes. He would never forgive Fate for tainting youth like this.

    As they stood there, Madara let his eyes fall closed. His drowsiness had not lessened since leaving the pub, and Tobirama was warm in spite of his normally arctic disposition. Although, Madara conceded, he didn’t exactly have any room to determine what Tobirama was like now. It had been five years since he had last lain eyes on the boy, after all, and one thing he could tell for certain was that Tobirama was not the insolent, brutally sassy brat he had been. Still cheeky and sassy, but to a much milder degree. Reflecting on their interactions up until now, Madara could almost find it pleasant.

    In his reverie he didn’t notice Tobirama’s hand drifting down his back and it wasn’t until it slipped into his back pocket that he snapped out of it. Instead of jerking away like he really should have, he froze up, breath catching as his mind did the reeling. Was this _really_ the best time to make such a tactless move—?

    Then he heard the jingle of keys.

    Right.

    The car keys.

    Of course.

    Madara let out a breath that shook more than he would have liked. Damn this alcohol. That could be the only explanation as to why he had... _allowed_ that. He really, _really_ needed to chug a mug of coffee, and soon.

    “Sorry.” Tobirama’s voice was jarringly close to his ear, though he pulled away thereafter, keys in hand. “But we really should get going. Hashirama is probably worried sick, and I’m the one who has to listen to him snivel about it.”

    Madara couldn’t help a quiet chuckle at that despite the way his hands still shook. “I pity you.” _But it must be nice to have someone worry over you like that._

    They got back in the car and fell into a deep but comfortable silence. Tobirama didn’t try to turn on the music and for that Madara was grateful; it seemed they were both men who valued their quietude. Although, Madara was on the verge of sleep again by the time they pulled into the dormitory’s parking lot. He could see Hashirama’s bulking form racing over to them in the darkness of the night. He threw open Tobirama’s door before the boy got the chance to unbuckle and immediately started pouring out some teary-eyed lecture about how they should pay more attention to their phones and where were they and he was scared to death. Madara almost felt bad, but it wasn’t as if anything bad had happened, and he made sure to tell Hashirama that. He explained they had just taken a detour to buy Madara a cold mocha (and they had, afterward, so he had the bottle for proof) and then traffic got backed up suddenly. It was only a half fib, and what Hashirama didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Tobirama had a muted look of gratitude at any rate, and that was enough to make it worth it.

    As they prepared to part ways, Madara felt a hand dig into his other back pocket as he turned away. Instead of freezing up like an idiot, this time he clenched his fist and whirled around to tell off Tobirama. It was fine to be brazen, but Madara valued his personal space and he did not appreciate it being violated by some high school twat.

    He paused, however, when he saw that Tobirama had gone for his phone this time and was in the middle of what seemed to be exchanging numbers. He blinked when the boy handed back his phone and looked down to see Tobirama had decorated his contact name with a crown emoji (which was just _begging_ him to change it to a poop emoji). He tried to sneak a glance at what Tobirama had put for Madara’s name, but he was already pocketing his phone again.

    “Keep in touch. And don’t wait another five years this time,” he said. Madara just blinked and watched him return to Hashirama’s car. He managed a small wave back to Hashirama, then he turned to go back to his dorm room. His legs felt numb and on the brink of giving out as another wave of fatigue washed over him, but he trudged onward.

    Yagura was already asleep by the time he entered the room, and Madara didn’t bother changing before dragging himself onto his bed and promptly passing the fuck out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you guys think? feedback is always appreciated and encouraged~!


	2. Bonding Experience

_He wouldn’t shut up about it all night. Said you and dude made the perfect couple._

 

_He’s delusional but what’s new. Dude’s name is Saburo btw_

 

_Sounds like he had some lazy parents._

 

_He’s not even a 3rd child_

 

_Lazy and stupid._

 

    Madara laughed aloud, an occurrence that was becoming more and more common ever since exchanging numbers with Tobirama. Over the course of just a few days, he had learned they shared a dry sense of humour at the expense of others, but if the comparison stretched further then Madara felt safe in assuming that the other meant no harm by it. The door opened then and Madara looked up from where he lay on his bed, head propped up on the pillows.

    “Okay,” Yagura began, closing the door behind him, “I’ve been listening to you giggle and titter over your phone for the past, like, _week._ What’s the deal?” He tossed down his bag and put his hands on his hips as if he were confronting his child about finding a porn magazine under their bed. Madara rolled his eyes.

    “First of all, I don’t _giggle_. Second of all, mind your own business,” he said, resuming his texting. He didn’t have classes today, so he was free to lounge around as he pleased.

    “Come to think of it, you’ve been like this ever since your date with Saburo.”

    “It wasn’t a date.”

    “Did you have that much fun?”

    Madara sighed labouriously and reached back to grab a pillow and throw it at Yagura.

    “I _did_ have fun, thank you very much. Just not the perverted kind,” he said. His roommate caught the pillow and hugged it to his chest as he came to kneel at Madara’s bedside.

    “So you’re trying to tell me that one ‘friendly meeting at a bar’ is what has you all... _this?_ ” Yagura asked, and this time his voice was absent of its usual teasing sarcasm. Madara glanced down at him briefly before turning back to his phone.

    “Hashirama and his brother had to come pick us up. We were both drunk and couldn’t drive,” he said by way of explanation as if that would satisfy the blond’s curiosity. It did not.

    “Hashirama has a brother?”

    “Yes.”

    “Well, what’s his name? What’s he like? Does he go here?”

    Madara sighed again, a sobbing whine catching in the back of his throat.

    “ _Please_ go hound someone else about it. I’m sure Hashirama would love to tell you all about his brother himself,” he said.

 

_Save me. My roommate is interrogating me_

 

_Sure. Let’s hang out._

 

    Madara paused at that. He hadn’t expected Tobirama to take him seriously nor offer him a legitimate way out of this situation, but he was grateful nonetheless. As Yagura opened his mouth to speak again, Madara sat up, shoving the pillow into the other’s face.

    “I have to go. Bother Hashirama about it.” He ignored Yagura’s complaints as he got dressed in proper clothes: a black T-shirt under a leather jacket, black jeans, and his leather boots. He grabbed his keys, gloves, and helmet on the way out the door, balancing them all in one arm as he sent a quick last text.

 

_I’m on my way_

 

* * *

 

 

    Madara had visited Hashirama’s new house only once. The Senju brothers had moved here a little before the beginning of the semester and Madara had only found out about their presence in the same town when he discovered that he and Hashirama shared classes. It had been quite the embarrassingly emotional reunion, and even he wasn’t spared tears when he had embraced Hashirama for the first time in all these years. He had gone to Hashirama’s house that first day, but Tobirama had apparently still been at his high school at the time, and Madara had been more than relieved. It had been good to see Hashirama again, but he hadn’t been sure the same could be said for his brother.

    He rolled into the Senju’s driveway, dropping the kick-stand a little to the side of the garage so as not to inhibit Hashirama’s car should he return home soon. The man had his own classes today, so—

    Wait a minute.

    Pulling off his helmet, he shook free his hair and looked to the door of the house to find Tobirama waiting for him. He narrowed his eyes.

    “Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked. Tobirama snorted.

    “Missing one day won’t kill me. Besides, you needed ‘saving’, right? So are you coming in or am I coming out?” he asked with a quirked brow. Madara scoffed.

    “That depends. Did you want to ride bitch or were you planning on making a heartfelt confession?” The question seemed to confuse Tobirama before he caught on. Madara smirked at the red flush that bloomed across those pale cheeks.

    “Fuck you. Get in here before I lock you out,” he said, turning to disappear back inside the house. Madara chuckled and dismounted his motorcycle, following the albino inside.

    The interior decor had changed since the last time he was here, which was to be expected. There had still been boxes left unpacked the last time, and now the place was pristine and proper. He didn’t expect anything less of Tobirama’s neat-freak attitude. The walls were off-white, and most of the furniture was a dark mahogany that complemented the pale floorboards nicely. Various knickknacks were strewn about on any available surface, and plenty of family photos decorated the walls. It was overall an average home, but the two brothers’ personalities shone through with the potted plants near the windows and the coat hanger by the door weighed down by numerous fluffy-collared coats.

    Madara followed Tobirama to the living room after depositing his helmet, keys, gloves, and jacket by the coat hanger. He took to the brown leather couch as the boy offered to get drinks, reclining with a contented sigh. It felt nice to enjoy actual furniture in open space rather than the cramped quarters of his dorm room, although he was sure Yagura would appreciate having the room to himself for the time being. He didn’t worry about having his personal items violated; he and Yagura had come to a silent agreement to respect each other’s privacy after a mutual excursion of curiosity that had led to less-than-desired discoveries. Needless to say, Madara could never, ever view Yagura as a child no matter how short he was.

    Tobirama returned with two icy glasses of a dark liquid. Madara took it with a quiet thanks and lifted it to his lips, expecting sweetened tea or some other variant, but what met him instead was the bitter burn of alcohol down his throat. He coughed a little in surprise, turning to give Tobirama a questioning look. The boy simply smirked, however, sipping at his own glass as he sat down. Narrowing his eyes, Madara snatched it from the other’s hands and tested that liquid as well before Tobirama could stop him. True to his suspicions, it also tasted of alcohol.

    “Skipping school is one thing, but this is _illegal,_ ” he said, holding both glasses out of Tobirama’s reach. “Are you actually stupid? Does Hashirama know you drink?” A part of him realized that he might have been acting just a little overbearing, but he couldn’t stop his reaction. It felt almost instinctual to reprimand the boy for such a thing.

    “Give me a break, will you? I’m not stupid, for the record, and I know not to get drunk or anything like that,” Tobirama said, leaning closer in preparation to reach for his glass. “It helps people relax, right? I figured you could use it.”

    Those words gave Madara pause, and though his eyes followed Tobirama’s hand as it slowly reached for his glass, he didn’t try to keep him from taking it. He pursed his lips.

    “Alright, fine. But what about you? Are you in such desperate need of ‘relaxation’ that you—”

    “Yes.”

    Well. Madara supposed he couldn’t argue with that.

    The Uchiha inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly before taking another drink. From overbearing to bad influence. Go figure.

    “What is this, anyway?” he decided to ask.

    “Jack Daniel’s,” Tobirama answered without pause. Madara glanced over at him, studying his reaction to the drink; the boy seemed to catch on. “I mix mine with tea. It tastes better.”

    And to that, he couldn’t help but laugh. Tobirama gave him an indignant look that he ignored in favour of nursing his own drink more. _This kid… He’s really…_

    “Anyway,” the albino went on, “what’s college life like? I hope it’s not the boot camp for stress and deadlines that Hashirama makes it out to be.” Madara snorted lightly.

    “Your brother needs professional help for all of his anxiety. He wouldn’t have nearly as hard of a time if he just learned to stop worrying so much,” he said. “It really is better than high school, I can tell you that, but a lot of the practical applications are the same.”

    “What does that mean?” Tobirama asked.

    “It means that you still need to study and go to class if you want to pass,” the Uchiha said, emphasizing the “go to class” bit with a pointed look. Tobirama turned away. “Getting involved in the community is more beneficial than it is in high school. Helpful friends can go a long way when you’re in a bind.”

    “That’s surprising, coming from you,” the albino said. Madara raised a brow at him, but he just shrugged. “You always used to act like you hated everyone and didn’t need anyone, and now you’re preaching about the importance of friendship. It’s kinda ironic.” Madara rolled his eyes.

    “Yes, well. A lot can change between the rebellious phase of a young man’s life and his realization that if he wants to succeed in anything then he has to rely on others.”

    “‘Young man’, you look about forty with those wrinkles,” Tobirama said, jabbing a finger in Madara’s face to indicate the creases under his eyes. The latter slapped away the hand.

    “ _Excuse you_ , those are _not_ wrinkles. My sinuses are perpetually inflamed,” he stated.

    “My ass. You’re probably just as stressed out as Hashirama. Are you still an insomniac?”

    Madara clicked his tongue. “I am not, nor have I ever been, an insomniac.”

    “Dude, you can’t bullshit me. It’s been five years but I have a good memory,” Tobirama said. “And I distinctly remember those _wrinkles_ being a lot darker in the past. I bet you didn’t realize it, but you acted more zombie than human after you hadn’t slept for a few days.”

    Madara pursed his lips at that. He had never gotten an official diagnosis (and really, the “perpetually inflamed sinuses” thing was a pretense anyway), but there was no denying that he had sleeping issues when he was younger. He couldn’t dispute Tobirama’s memory because he remembered it just as vividly himself. It hadn’t been a very bright time in his life, and it had gotten worse after Izuna’s death. He eventually resorted to taking over-the-counter medication because he didn’t want to see a doctor for fuck knows what reason, caught himself abusing the pills and had to stop. It had really only begun to right itself in the past year, but the damage was evident in the bags under his eyes, and still he found himself restless several nights in a row occasionally.

    “It’s okay, you know,” Tobirama said then, snapping Madara out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to pretend it never happened. You’re doing better now, right?” Hesitantly, he nodded, and Tobirama smiled a little, but even that slight twitch of his lips eased some of the tension in Madara’s chest. “I’m glad to hear it. You had us kinda scared back then. It’s good you’re doing better.”

    “You’ve been awfully considerate of me,” Madara noted then, finishing off his glass of whiskey.

    “Is that a bad thing?” Tobirama asked without missing a beat, finishing his own glass in the same moment. Madara hummed.

    “I haven’t decided that yet,” he said. Tobirama breathed a huff of laughter and reached to take his glass, standing.

    “Refill?”

    “Just a little.”

    He relaxed back in his seat again as Tobirama disappeared toward the kitchen. He found his eyes lingering after the boy pensively. He really had changed quite a bit. He couldn’t recall a time in the past that Tobirama would have offered to get anyone else a refill but himself, let alone pour them a drink to begin with. Not that Madara had wanted anything to do with him before the incident, much less afterward. As far as he had been concerned, Tobirama had been little more than Hashirama’s idiot kid brother, always getting in the way and butting in on things that didn’t concern him. In fact, Madara remembered the time that Tobirama had intentionally gotten him and his brother in trouble when Madara had tried to sneak into Hashirama’s second-story bedroom in the middle of the night. Everything would have gone smoothly if Tobirama hadn’t opened his window at the exact moment that Madara tried to use it as a handhold. He had a broken tailbone after that and was forbidden from seeing Hashirama outside of school for a month (not that they hadn’t found ways around that, though). Even so, Madara found himself chuckling at the memory.

    “What’s so funny?” Tobirama asked as he returned, glasses only half-filled this time.

    “Oh, nothing. I was just remembering how much of a little shit you used to be,” Madara said with a smirk, taking his glass. Tobirama sat down next to him again, perhaps a little closer than before.

    “Do elaborate,” Tobirama said. “As I recall, you were always trying to get Hashirama in trouble and I had to step in all the time.”

    “Bullshit! None of us would have gotten in half as much trouble if it weren’t for you,” Madara said, but he smiled. “Admit it. You were just jealous that your brother had a cool older friend who knew how to have fun.” Tobirama rolled his eyes.

    “Please. I don’t consider sneaking out at three A.M. to set off fireworks into someone’s hayfield and _setting it on fire_ ‘fun’.”

    “We thought the grass would be more damp!” Madara protested with a laugh, but the boy merely shook his head. “So what do you do for ‘fun’, then? I can’t imagine what you kids get up to these days.”

    “I’m not a ‘kid’, I’m eighteen,” Tobirama corrected.

    “Right, sorry. _Young adult_.” He snickered as the other shot him a look.

    “If you _must_ know, I dance. I’m going to a dance camp this summer,” he said. Madara raised both brows.

    “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s that about?” he asked. Tobirama shrugged.

    “They’re supposed to teach all sorts of dance, but you can focus on one field,” he said. “You do all kinds of projects where you make dance videos, sometimes solo and sometimes with a group. I think it’s mostly contemporary from what I’ve seen.” Madara nodded along.

    “How long have you been into dancing?”

    “As long as I can remember. I used to be embarrassed about it,” the albino said with another shrug. “Social normativity and all that.” Madara heaved a sigh.

    “Don’t I know it,” he agreed. “Well, if you enjoy it then you should pursue it. Are you any good?”

    “Of course.” Madara smirked.

    “Then prove it. Come to a club with me this Friday and show me what you’re made of,” he said. Tobirama looked at him with slightly widened eyes.

    “What?”

    “You heard me. If I think you’re good enough I might just have to challenge you to a dance off.” That seemed to catch the boy’s attention.

    “ _You_ can dance?” he asked; Madara nodded. “Now this I have to see. You’re on.”

    Madara smirked. “Do you know where Voyeur Nightclub is?” Tobirama shook his head, a faint redness already tinting his cheeks at the suggestive name. Madara smiled a little. “I guess I’ll have to give you a ride there then.”

    It took the Senju a moment to process what that meant. He deadpanned. “On your motorcycle.” It wasn’t a question, but Madara nodded.

    “Don’t look so depressed. Weren’t you just dissing social normativity? I promise I won’t make fun of you for riding bitch~”

    Tobirama clicked his tongue and looked away, muttering, “Then stop calling it that.” Madara simply chuckled, scooting closer to drape himself against Tobirama’s side.

    “What, is it too _vulgar_ ? Are you afraid people will think you’re _gay_ ? Heaven forbid, they might think we’re gay _together_!” He snickered as Tobirama planted a hand on his face and shoved him away.

    “I’m not afraid of that. I’m proud of who I am and I don’t care what people think,” he said, lowering his arm. Madara blinked at that and thought for a moment.

    “Does that mean you are?” he asked with less of a shit-eating tone of voice. Tobirama didn’t answer, instead turning away and thoroughly engaging himself in gulping down his drink. Madara grinned. “You _are_! Why am I only just now hearing about this? Good for you!” He clapped Tobirama’s back with just enough force to send him into a coughing fit.

    “Calm down, would you? It’s not a big deal,” the albino said after recovering. “Why the hell are you so excited about it anyway?” That was a good question, and Madara didn’t have a good answer, but he figured he might as well lay it all out on the table.

    “I’m gay too,” he said plainly. “It’s just nice to find proud youth in the community.” Tobirama’s eyes widened.

    “Wait—since when?” he asked.

    “Since always.” Madara smirked and downed the rest of his glass. “Is that surprising?”

    “Well… No, I guess not. I just figured you weren’t into romance or sex or anything, really,” the boy said. Madara hummed.

    “I didn’t like to flaunt that sort of thing back then and I still don’t now,” he said. “Besides, I’m more focused on my studies these days. I spent most of my time in high school fucking off and disappointing Jesus, so I’m trying to make up for that now.” Tobirama snorted.

    “Disappointing Jesus is right. You were practically the Devil incarnate.” Madara feigned a pout.

    “Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

    “No, it’s probably an understatement.”

    They both laughed at that, and it was only then that Madara realized he was still leaning against Tobirama. He didn’t particularly feel like doing anything about it, though. He reached forward to place his glass on the coffee table and waited for Tobirama to do the same, then snuggled closer before he could talk himself out of it. Tobirama really was abnormally warm and he wondered why on earth he needed all those fuzzy coats. Madara pondered that the boy was probably anemic, what with his genetics. He would have to ask sometime.

    The Senju stilled at Madara’s movement, but didn’t comment on it. Madara took that as a good sign and let his eyes close. He realized then how tired he was; he had stayed up late texting Tobirama for the past few days, and had woken early this morning to find that Tobirama hadn’t been able to fall asleep. That had led to their talking for most of the morning, up until Yagura had returned during his lunch. Madara thought Tobirama must have been just as tired, if not more so, as he was.

    “I know I said we could hang out, but…” Madara shook his head against the other’s shoulder.

    “If you’re going to suggest anything other than taking a nap, the answer is no,” he said. He felt more than heard Tobirama’s chuckle as an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

    “My thoughts exactly.”

    Madara smiled drowsily and toed off his boots, letting them bounce to the floor as Tobirama shifted them into a lying position. Madara lay in between Tobirama and the back of the couch, and he silently enjoyed the comforting security of the Senju’s arm wrapped around him as he looped his own around Tobirama’s waist.

    “Thank you for being so open about this,” he muttered as they got comfortable. “There aren’t many people who can cuddle without expecting something else.”

    “I wouldn’t expect anything like that from you,” Tobirama said, his voice reverberating in his chest where Madara’s head lay. “Hashirama would have both of our heads.” Madara snorted softly.

    “He would probably accuse me of seducing you,” he said.

    “Fat chance. You’re not that smooth, Uchiha.”

    “I’m pretty smooth.”

    “You’re about as smooth as Hashirama trying to tell a lie.” This time Madara’s pout was real.

    “Now that’s uncalled for.”

    Tobirama simply chuckled again and squeezed his arm around the Uchiha briefly.

    “Go to sleep. You can keep arguing with me after we wake up.”

    That offer was too tempting to resist, so Madara relented, drifting into unconsciousness with a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 2! i'm trying to stay one chapter ahead of the updates, so hopefully i'll always have something to put out if i'm running late. let me know what you guys think!


	3. Reminiscence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a touch of sauciness in this chapter ;) enjoy~

    When Madara awoke, it was to the sound of dishes clinking in a sink. He thought it odd, but assumed he had fallen asleep in his dorm lobby. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time, and he doubted it would be the last time. Shifting slightly as consciousness gradually trickled back to him, he realized he was enveloped by a pleasant warmth. He sighed contentedly, easing into the sensation as unconsciousness beckoned him once more.

    However, when that pleasant warmth _moved_ , Madara was forced to reject that beckon as awareness seized him like a splash of cold water. His eyes flew open, only to be met with a broad chest that rose and fell steadily, signifying deep slumber. An arm kept him securely pressed against that chest, and the back of the couch prevented escape. A knee rested between his own, keeping him pinned lest he wanted to create a very uncomfortable situation. What’s more was that his own body was slotted against the other’s as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The faint throbbing behind his temples implied that whatever had led to this predicament had been far from an act of a sensible mind.

    Panic bubbled in his chest he scrambled through his mind for an explanation. He was still half-asleep and groggy from what little amount of alcohol he had had. Okay, yes, alcohol. Why? He would have remembered going to a club, and if he had gone to a club he would be suffering far worse than a bit of grogginess right now. Madara’s quickening breaths brought a certain scent to his nose and it caused him to lose his train of thought. That scent was familiar, wasn’t it? Where had he smelled that before?

    _Of course!_ Madara very nearly slapped himself for his idiocy. _Of course_ , he had gone to Hashirama’s house to hang out with Tobirama, and they...what? They had only talked, hadn’t they? So why in the _fuck_ was Madara tangled up with Hashirama’s little brother _on his couch?_ And who was—

    Fuck. Oh fuck. What time was it? How long had they been asleep? He was so _stupid_ , he should have set an alarm, or—or something! He hadn’t even been that tipsy, for fuck’s sake! How could he have let something like this happen?

    The sound of dishes being moved around stopped then and Madara held his breath. Hashirama was the only other person who could be in this house. Why hadn’t he woken up the two of them sooner?

    The shadow of that very man appeared above him suddenly and Madara jumped so hard he nearly knocked the both of them to the floor. Tobirama awoke with a startled snort, limbs flailing to regain his balance before he tumbled off the edge of the couch. His wide, red eyes looked around wildly as if expecting an attack, and honestly Madara couldn’t blame him. Standing aside now, Hashirama’s booming laughter pierced his ears and he squinted.

    “Jeez, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you that much,” the Senju said, wiping at his eyes. Madara sat up now that he didn’t have to worry about moving Tobirama and he did nothing to stifle his glare as he looked at Hashirama.

    “Why didn’t you wake us up when you got here?” he asked, perhaps more harshly than he intended. Hashirama stopped laughing, but his smile remained.

    “You guys looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bear to bother you,” he said. “Besides, I got a few good pictures out of it~” Madara’s eyes widened.

    “Where? Delete them! You are not keeping those!” He scrambled to his feet, pushing a dazed Tobirama out of the way.

    “Hmm, I think I will. Consider it collateral for letting my little brother ditch school and entering my house without my permission,” the elder Senju said. That stopped Madara dead in his tracks, the colour draining from his face.

    “Hashirama, I—”

    His voice died in his throat as a dark look overcame Hashirama’s features. The smile only made it scarier.

    “As for breaking into my alcohol, you’re going to have to do a lot more to make it up to me.”

    Madara felt his stomach drop.

 

    “I never knew your brother could be such a slave driver,” the Uchiha grumbled as he worked a soapy sponge over the hood of Hashirama’s car, which had _conveniently_ gotten so very dirty since yesterday. Tobirama scoffed, dragging a squeegee over the windshield.

    “This is tame compared to what he’s put me through,” he said. “He actually made me clean the bathroom with a toothbrush once.” Madara stared at him from across the car.

    “You’re joking.”

    “I wish.”

    Oh boy.

    Thankfully, at least, it was later in the day and therefore not as hot outside as it could have been. Hashirama offered them drinks despite the task he demanded of them, but Madara still felt he was being let off easy. He imagined if a parent had caught him cuddling their eighteen-year-old kid on their couch after ditching school with him and drinking alcohol with him, he would have found himself in detainment before he could even try to explain. Not that there _was_ anything to explain. He had no excuse for his actions, and he should know better. He was a grown man, dammit. He shouldn’t be enabling rebellious kids.

    _Young adults,_ rather. Madara scoffed in his mind. Just what the hell had come over him, anyway? He normally _hated_ touching people and being touched. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that alcohol lessened that inhibition somewhat, but he had barely drunk any at all. It was as if merely learning of Tobirama’s preferences had made him care less about keeping up appearances—and, really, he guessed that’s what it was. He felt he could be more relaxed around people who were like him in that way, which would explain his behaviour with Saburo, as well. He supposed Tobirama was a special exception to have cuddled with him. He was just. So warm. And strong. And wow. He should stop right there.

    Madara pointedly kept his eyes off of Tobirama while they cleaned the car, especially when Tobirama lifted his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his face, or when his shirt revealed his midriff when he raised his arms to reach the top of the car, or when he bent down to soak his own sponge in a bucket of water and his tight jeans showed off that perfect ass of his.

    Madara was doing a really bad job at this keeping-his-eyes-off-Tobirama thing.

    By the time they finished, Madara collapsed back onto the couch in exhaustion more from the mental effort of willing away a boner than from physical exertion. Why in the _fuck_ did Tobirama suddenly seem so hot to him now? He had cuddled the bastard and he hadn’t been this affected. Not to mention, _what the fuck?_ What happened to his “I’m not looking for a relationship right now” resolve? Not that he was considering a relationship with Hashirama’s kid brother. No way in _hell_.

    Hashirama himself provided the perfect distraction from that devastating train of thought. He placed glasses of water (Madara sniffed first just to be sure) in front of them and joined them on the couch to Madara’s left.

    “You know, it’s pretty late now, and you could probably use a shower,” Hashirama said. “You can stay the night if you want.”

    Madara looked at him, brows furrowing. “...Aren’t you still mad?” he asked hesitantly. Hashirama smiled at him.

    “I know you didn’t mean any harm by it. I’m actually glad you were here with him instead of him being alone while he ditched school.” He threw Tobirama a pointed look from around Madara, which was deftly avoided as Tobirama turned away. “Who knows what worse mischief he could have gotten into?” Madara raised a brow.

    “Is he prone to worse mischief?” he asked.

    “Oh, where do I _begin_?” Hashirama exhaled labouriously, leaning back. “One time I caught him drawing graffiti on our neighbour’s doghouse!” Madara feigned a gasp.

    “ _Heavens_ no.”

    “Yes!” Hashirama shook his head in exasperation. “And _then_ he tried to steal their dog!”

    Madara could only laugh at that, turning to look at Tobirama questioningly. The boy rolled his eyes.

    “They were abusing it. I saw it myself,” he said.

    “They were,” Hashirama conceded. “But you should have called a humane society instead of trying to _steal_ it.”

    “You grounded me from using my phone remember?” Tobirama countered. Hashirama blinked.

    “I did?”

    “ _Yes_. Because I drew graffiti on their doghouse.”

    “My point exactly!”

    Madara couldn’t remember laughing this much in his life. He was used to Hashirama being a total doofus, but listening to the two brothers banter with each other, especially about Tobirama’s delinquent record, was something else entirely. He kind of regretted not being able to enjoy this for the past five years. God only knew he could have used it.

    “You’re in a good mood,” Hashirama noted. “Oh, right. Did you decide if you would stay the night yet?” he asked.

    “Only if I’m not imposing,” Madara said after a moment.

    “Of course not! We don’t have a guest bedroom, but this couch unfolds into a bed,” Hashirama said, patting the arm of the couch. Madara nodded. “And like I said, you can use our shower. There are fresh towels in there. And, ah…”

    Hashirama stood, tugging Madara along with them, and compared their heights for himself. Pursing his lips in thought, he gestured for Tobirama to stand as well, who did so with mild confusion.

    “I think Tobirama’s clothes will fit you better than mine. Will you go get an outfit ready for Madara?” Hashirama asked from around the Uchiha.

    “I—That won’t be necessary. I can just wear the same clothes—”

    “No, you can’t,” Hashirama insisted, patting both of his shoulders. “I know how much you hate wearing the same clothes two days in a row. It’s fine. Right, Tobirama?” He turned _that_ smile onto his brother, and Madara glanced back to see Tobirama roll his eyes.

    “Sure. They’ll probably still be too big, though…” he muttered as he disappeared down a hallway. Madara sighed.

    “I told you I didn’t want to impose…”

    “Hush. You’re not imposing. You’re welcome here anytime, even if I’m not home,” Hashirama said. “Just don’t let my little brother ditch school anymore, okay?” Madara glanced away.

    “I can’t stop him if he decides to,” he said.

    “Sure you can! He looks up to you, so he’ll probably be more eager to follow your example than mine,” the Senju said. Madara looked back at him, eyebrows drawing together again.

    “Why?”

    “Isn’t it obvious? He’s exactly like you were in high school. But he probably has better grades than you did.” Hashirama chuckled.

    Madara was left to his own devices then, but he still couldn’t quite piece together what he’d been told. Why would Tobirama look up to him, and more importantly, why would he try to imitate him? It was painfully obvious how much trouble he got into as a teenager, so why would someone as smart as Tobirama want to follow in his footsteps? And Tobirama was indeed very smart; Madara remembered quite clearly his own jealousy at the younger Senju’s academic prowess. He had often shown up Madara whenever the opportunity presented itself, which had only fortified the unspoken rivalry between the two of them. Things were different now, of course, but still. It just seemed rather strange to him.

    He eventually meandered his way to the bathroom just in time for Tobirama to emerge.

    “I left the clothes in there,” he said, stepping aside. “My shampoo and conditioner are on the left. I wouldn’t suggest using Hashirama’s unless you want to smell like a daffodil.” Madara snorted.

    “I appreciate it.”

    Madara stepped inside and locked the door behind him, taking in the sight of the bathroom. It was rather lavish, all things considered. Clearly not the master bathroom, but impressive all the same. It had marble tile, a marble sink, and a walk-in shower with a pantry to the side that, upon closer inspection, stocked more towels. Madara made a note to replace the ones he used after he finished.

    The warm rush of water over his skin was a direct blessing from God. His hair posed the usual challenge; keeping it so long did have its drawbacks, but he did so love his hair. And, as he compared the Senju brothers’ hair care products for himself, he was glad Tobirama had offered his own. It was no wonder how Hashirama kept his hair as soft and lush with this crud, but Madara would rather smell like a fuck boy than a rose garden. He wondered now, though, what Tobirama’s hair felt like. It certainly smelled nice, as evidenced by his awakening this evening and the aroma that filled the air around him now. He was concerningly delighted by smelling like the younger Senju, and the more he let his mind wander on that topic, the more he realized just how deep was the shit he was in.

    Goddamn, he should have more control than this, but fuck if that hadn’t been the hottest lapse of his voyeuristic tendencies earlier. The fact that he was five years Tobirama’s senior held little substance to him; Tobirama was a legal adult, and he had matured so beautifully. He was no longer the prepubescent, gangly teen he had been when Madara had left. His jawline was strong, his muscles had filled out nicely, and he made albinism his own personal fashion statement. He could even be considered erotic by some standards, and that, of course, led Madara’s thoughts to his interest in dance. The image of Tobirama working a pole was all it took to bring Madara’s neglected dick to immediate attention.

    He sighed as he looked down at it as if he could make it go away with the sheer force of his glare. He knew when it was time to take care of business, however, lest he suffer the revenge of his hormones at a less opportune moment. He had practically taken a vow of celibacy over the course of these five years, and his libido had been more or less compliant, but he feared its full-force return now, and just as well. He had fought valiantly against his affections for Hashirama throughout their friendship for fear of ruining their relationship, and it just went to show that the Senju had inexplicably attractive genes as those affections slowly but surely shifted their focus to Tobirama. It almost felt like betrayal as he recalled those since-faded affections for Hashirama, but perhaps this was for the better. He wasn’t so naive as to think he could do any better a job of suppressing his emotions this time around, but at least this time they wouldn’t risk depriving him of the one thing that given him reason to stay alive all this time. Not that he thought Hashirama would turn him away should he have learned of Madara’s true feelings back then, but Madara would have ruined himself. He always did.

    Shaking his head to dispel such depressing thoughts, he begrudgingly lowered his hand to his erection. He didn’t have time to work himself up to it; if he stayed in the shower for much longer, those two would undoubtedly grow suspicious and then he would thoroughly regret his decision to stay the night.

He gave his shaft a slow stroke, sighing at the sensation after so long. He had to thank his low stamina just this once; back in the day, he could have drawn out something as simple as this for hours, if he wanted. He was an attentive lover, through and through, and always made a point of bringing off his partner before himself, not out of pride, but consideration. Now, however, it would be a miracle if he lasted the next five minutes. The shudder that rolled through him as he flicked his thumb over his slit proved that much.

    Gradually he increased his pace, focusing only on reaching that breaking point. God, how he would love to delve back into his extensive assortment of fetishes. Voyeurism was plainly one of them, and he recalled the half-fantasy he had begun to piece together of Tobirama on a pole.

    “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, pumping his cock at a steady pace now. If Tobirama could dance as well as he claimed, he should have no trouble wrapping his strong thighs around a pole and making his audience jealous of it. Yeah, Madara would absolutely let that boy wrap his legs around his waist. Against a wall, probably, frantic and furious. Madara reached down with his other hand to fondle his eagerly hot balls, biting his lip at the spike of sensation. He imagined pounding away at that tight, firm ass, Tobirama’s nails digging into his back and hopefully (please, God) drawing blood. He imagined leaving hand-shaped bruises on pale hips, leaving a perfect mould or two of his teeth on Tobirama’s shoulder, maybe where those fuzzy collars wouldn’t stand a chance of hiding it. He would tangle his fingers in that snowy hair and pull on it until Tobirama was screaming his name, begging for him and his cock like his life depended on it.

    And Madara would give it to him. He would positively _ravage_ that pristine body, ruin it for anybody else. He would leave such a deep claim on Tobirama that the boy would be thinking about it for years to come. Maybe Tobirama would let Madara fuck his mouth. Shit, yeah, that’d be nice. He could almost _feel_ that hot wetness around his cock. He could hear the slick sound of his own strokes clearly, pre-cum mixing with the running water as he jerked himself off. He would definitely keep his hand in Tobirama’s hair, holding him in place as Madara’s hips drove his cock down his throat. Would he choke? Would he _like_ being choked?

    Now there was a hot image. Madara’s hands around his neck, pressing down just enough to make him squirm. Hips rolling slowly back and forth, stroking Tobirama’s prostate with every thrust, but refusing to speed up. He wanted that desperation, that animal instinct that surfaced amoung the adrenaline, the fading consciousness. He wanted to see Tobirama’s eyes go hazy and unfocused just before he released his hold and plowed the boy to climax.

    And good _God_ did he want to cum inside of Tobirama. He wanted the Senju to swallow his load, he wanted to plug his seed inside Tobirama’s ass and take him out in public until they could find a crowded bathroom stall to fuck him against, and then he would plug him again until they got home. He wanted to paint his face with his cum and take pictures for a rainy day, and he would send pictures of himself jerking off to the image of Tobirama’s plastered face. Whisper filthy things to him over the phone and forbid him from touching himself until Madara was there to take him again and again and again.

    His climax seized him before he knew it, and a strangled noise escaped his throat as he came. He fucked his hand through it all, watching the white spunk wash down his hand and stomach with the water. It was starting to turn cold, and he knew he’d been in here too long. He cursed under his breath and shut off the water, stepping out of the shower on shaky legs. An incredible amount of guilt weighed down his shoulders as the fact that he had just masturbated in Hashirama’s bathroom settled in, but he set aside the thought for now as he hurried to dry and get dressed. He just managed to remember to replace the towels before he left the bathroom.

    He staggered as he came face-to-face with Tobirama standing outside the door. He prayed to God that the flush of his face could be assumed due to the steam from the shower. Tobirama merely lifted a brow at him and stepped aside to let him pass.

    “Come on. I need to shower too,” he said, waiting. Madara forced his feet to move forward, hurrying to get away from this situation as quickly as possible. He couldn’t help but worry that he’d been heard. Would Tobirama have said something if he had? He was brazen enough, but Madara didn’t know if he had the guts to confront something like that, and he couldn’t blame the poor kid. He didn’t want to confront it himself.

    Upon returning to the living room, he found Hashirama draping the blanket over the unfolded futon. The man threw a smile over his shoulder at Madara.

    “Hey! If it gets too cold tonight, you can get more blankets from that closet,” he said, nodding to the door to the right of the hallway Madara emerged from. “Don’t worry about sticking around if you wake up before us, but I’ll make breakfast in the morning if you do. I’m sorry in advance if we end up waking you; Tobirama has to leave for school at seven.”

    “That’s fine. Thank you,” Madara said. Glancing down, he tugged at the clothes he’d thrown on without much of a second thought. They fit, but they were just big enough to make him feel pitifully small in them. Hashirama chuckled.

    “At least they won’t be falling off of you,” he pointed out. Madara rolled his eyes.

    “I’m just glad I don’t smell like you. Axe is much better than ~ _citrusy floral garden aroma~_ ” he said. Hashirama pouted, crossing his arms.

    “Excuse me for wanting to smell good. The ladies love a guy who smells like a garden,” he retorted.

    “Then it’s a good thing I’m not interested in the ladies,” Madara said, peeling back the blanket as he sat down on the edge of the futon.

    “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot you were gay,” Hashirama said as if it had just occurred to him. Madara gave him a blank look.

    “Gee. Thanks.” Hashirama floundered.

    “It’s not like that! It’s just been so long, you know? So have you found anyone?” he asked, suddenly very interested in Madara’s love life. Go figure.

    “No, I have not. I want to focus on my studies for now,” he said. Hashirama came to sit next to him on the futon.

    “I get that, but does that mean you have to cross off relationships entirely?” he asked, genuine curiosity ringing in his voice. “I know gay guys were hard to come by where we used to live, but I hear Philadelphia is really open and accepting of that stuff.” Madara sighed.

    “I know it is,” he said. “I’ve met more gays here than I thought truly existed in the United States. But...I don’t know. I just think it’s better if I keep my mind off that sort of thing until I can finish school. I’ll feel better about potentially having to support someone else after I have my degree.”

    Hashirama hummed. “If you say so. Just don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? If things happen naturally, I mean. Stressing yourself out over it will just defeat the purpose.” Madara turned a soft smile on him, nodding.

    “I won’t. Thank you.” Hashirama smiled back and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to give him a half-hug.

    “You’re welcome. I’m gonna head to bed. Tobirama should be out of the shower soon,” he said, getting to his feet. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you get hungry or something. Good night!”

    “Good night.” Madara watched Hashirama disappear down the hallway before he lay down and drew the covers around him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. He really was one lucky son of a bitch to have Hashirama as his friend. Despite the headaches and worrying after the bastard half the time, he was good to Madara in ways he didn’t think he deserved. Hashirama had put up with a lot of shit from him and had held fast through it all, unwavering in his devotion. He had a will of fire, a bleeding heart, and the wishful thinking of a child. People like him only came along once in a millennium, and Madara thanked his lucky stars that he had been graced with such a person in his life.

 

* * *

 

     Deja vu clouded Madara’s mind for a moment as he woke again to the sound of dishes clinking. This time, however, he had only the warmth of a blanket, and part of him was thankful for that. He blinked open his eyes slowly, yawning and reaching up a hand to rub away the bleariness as he shifted into a sitting position.

    “Good morning, sleepyhead,” came Hashirama’s voice from the kitchen. Madara opened one eye to see him grinning from around the corner. He disappeared for a second before re-emerging with a plate of food in his hands. “Here you go! I made your eggs just how you like them.”

    Madara took the plate with a mumbled thanks. Looking down, he saw Hashirama hadn’t been lying about the eggs, but he really had gone all-out. The eggs were both sunny-side-up, lightly seasoned, and somehow he had kept the whites and yolks from running like Madara’s eggs usually turned out; there was a golden piece of toast spread with nut butter, topped with banana slices, and sprinkled with what looked like chia seeds; and finally, a side dish bowl with a berry parfait.

    “Yes, he does this every morning, in case you were wondering.” Madara looked up to see Tobirama coming from the kitchen, his own plate in hand. The Uchiha pushed the blanket out of the way to make room for him to sit.

    “You have it good here,” he said with just a hint of envy. Tobirama chuckled, getting comfortable against the arm of the futon while Madara dug into his eggs.

    “Hell yeah I do. He’s tried to teach me how to make half the stuff he cooks, but I’m no good,” the Senju said. “Everything I make either gets burnt to ashes or looks like something you’d find at the bottom of a public school trash can.” Madara made a face at that and Tobirama nodded.

    “You better learn how to cook,” the elder said. “It’s like a requirement for all gay men to know how to cook.”

    Tobirama snorted. “Can you?”

    “Enough to make due,” he said. “But your brother is like a culinary god. These eggs look like the stuff you’d see in an IHOP commercial.” He shoveled more into his mouth, oh so grateful for Hashirama’s cooking skill.

    “Cook for me sometime,” Tobirama said then. “Maybe I’ll have a better chance keeping up with you than Hashirama.” Madara glanced up at that, nodding a little. He remembered what Hashirama said last night about Tobirama looking up to him, and he could see proof of that showing through now.

    “I’ll make you a deal. If you can out-dance me Friday night, I’ll cook for you,” he said. Tobirama smirked.

    “Deal. I’m gonna wipe the floor with your ass.” _Oh, but there are_ so _much better things you could do with my ass._ Madara shook his head at that, turning back to his food and promptly ignoring his own thoughts.


	4. Precipice of Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments thus far! i may not have the words to respond to each one, but i do read them and they give me the motivation to keep writing, so thank you~ < 3
> 
> as for all your interest in that steamy bit, i've decided to make this story part of a series. since i want this story in particular to focus on the development of the relationship and whatnot, i won't include anything beyond the First Sex, but i'm going to write a separate work that's purely kinkfill, so keep your eyes open for that once i finish with this ;)
> 
> i'm also going to add a sneak peek/behind the scenes chapter at the very end of this with all the juicy details of some of the scenes you don't get to see through the actual story. i hope you'll enjoy what i have planned ^^ thank you again!

    Friday night came around far sooner than Madara was prepared for. As it were, Madara was unprepared for a lot of things. Such as Saburo showing up at his dorm room. And the fact that he had apparently agreed to go to the basketball game tonight during their evening at the pub.

    Saburo leaned against the doorway, ticket in hand, and all Madara could do was stand there like a dolt wondering what vengeful deity had it out for him.

    “You’re coming, right?” Saburo asked, smile unwavering despite Madara’s speechless gaping.

    “I…” Goddamnit. _Goddamnit_. “Uhh…”

    His hesitation was what finally made Saburo’s expression falter, and fuck if it weren’t one of the most heartbreaking things Madara had eveprohir seen. What was worse was that he was the cause of it.

    “He’s got a date tonight,” Yagura provided helpfully from inside the dorm. Madara clenched his jaw. He was definitely going to make that bitch eat those condoms.

    “It’s not a date,” he corrected immediately without looking back at Yagura. “I just… I...forgot…” _Shit shit shit shit shit._

    “Oh…” Yup. That one word was right on par with Hashirama’s puppy dog eyes. “Well—that’s okay! Really. It’s just a game, and I can’t ask you to ditch your date,” Saburo said with an obviously forced chuckle.

    “It’s not a date,” Madara repeated with a note of exasperation, but he figured he was losing that battle. “I’m really sorry. Like, _really_ sorry. I’ll come to the next one, I swear.” He prayed to God that he wouldn’t fuck up that one.

    Saburo smiled; it was softer than those he usually gave, but genuine nonetheless. “Okay, but you have to let me buy you dinner again afterward.” Madara sighed, half in relief and half in incredulity. This guy really just did not give up. Regardless, Madara found himself returning the smile.

    “Okay,” he agreed.

    Yagura poked his head around Madara then, eyeing the ticket still in Saburo’s hand.

    “If you don’t have anyone else in mind, I’ll go,” he offered. Saburo’s smile widened and he held out the ticket.

    “Sure. It starts at eight-thirty,” he said. Yagura smiled back and plucked the ticket out of his hand.

    “I’ll be there~” The blond winked and Saburo cleared his throat before bidding his farewell. Madara waved and closed the door before rounding on Yagura.

    “What the hell?”

    “What the hell what? That was absolutely pitiful,” the man said. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favour.”

    “If you want to do me a favour, stop calling it a ‘date’ every time I go out with a friend,” Madara snapped, walking over to his dresser to pull out the outfit he had planned to wear tonight.

    “I’ll stop calling them dates when you stop going to intimate places with hot guys,” Yagura said, flopping back down on his bed. “Hashirama showed me pictures, too. You really get around, huh?”

    Madara narrowed his eyes. “I don’t. I haven’t had sex in years, for your information.” He pulled out a fitted fishnet shirt with fingerless glove sleeves and a pair of black harem pants. He avidly ignored Yagura’s guffaw as he changed clothes; the shirt showed off the black and red double phoenix tattoo on his right hip, an image he’d had printed onto the gas tank of his motorcycle as well.

    “Dude.” Yagura sat up in his bed. “You are so out to get laid tonight.”

    Madara shot the blond a seething look as he tugged on his leather jacket and a pair of Vans.

    “Eat my ass, Yondaime.”

 

    Madara arrived at the Senju Residence shortly thereafter. He had sent Hashirama home with a spare helmet when they had returned to their college that morning. The man had expressed extensive worry about Madara taking his little brother to a club on his motorcycle, but he couldn’t dispute Madara’s sense of responsibility and safety when it came to these things. He conveniently forgot to mention the fake ID he had made for Tobirama. Re: What Hashirama didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

    Dismounting his bike, Madara waited as Hashirama crushed his brother in a tight hug by the door. He took the moment to look over Tobirama’s state of dress. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt beneath a ripped up black band shirt, ripped jeans, and combat boots. His white hair stood out in stark contrast, and damn was it a good look on him. For a trashy teenage punk, he could dress well.

    As the two brothers approached, Madara grunted as Hashirama crushed his ribcage next.

    “Please be safe,” he said, worry ringing through his voice. “Don’t let him get into trouble. And don’t let him get _you_ into trouble.”

    “I won’t, I won’t. Let go; you reek of dog,” Madara said, pushing Hashirama away. “Where are all those little bastards, anyway? I haven’t seen a single one.”

    Hashirama chuckled nervously. “They’re out back. I was able to find the homes of three of them! And the local shelter took in five, so we just have two now. I’m thinking of keeping them.” Madara rolled his eyes.

    “Do you even know how to take care of a pet without spoiling it to death? Don’t answer that.” He sighed lightheartedly at Hashirama’s pout. “Anyway, if that’s all.” He gestured to Tobirama, who put on his helmet. Hashirama dragged them both into another hug, causing their helmets to clank together and drawing out simultaneous groans. The elder Senju laughed.

    “Okay. Have fun, you guys. Text me your plans afterwards,” he said. Madara nodded and mounted his bike again, waiting for Tobirama to slide on behind him. He sighed at the lax grip of the boy’s arms around his waist.

    “If you don’t hold on properly I’m gonna pop a wheelie all the way down the road,” he warned. That was all it took to make Tobirama tighten his grip considerably. Madara laughed and lifted the kickstand, easing out of Hashirama’s driveway.

    Tobirama pressed even closer once they started down the road, and Madara relished the moment. There was no guarantee that he could ever get Tobirama to hold onto him like this again, so he would savour it for what it was. It was an oddly thrilling sensation to have someone depend on him like this; this was the first time he’d ever let someone else ride on his motorcycle in the two years that he had owned it. Hopefully Tobirama would enjoy it and want to do it again.

    The ride to Voyeur was typically right around twenty-five minutes, made faster by Madara’s ability to weave through traffic. Tobirama clung to him when they turned tight corners or dodged around cars between lanes. But he didn’t complain even once, not even about Madara’s loose hair whipping in the wind. There wasn’t much he could do about that, anyway. It was too thick to tie up for any length of time and he absolutely refused to cut it off.

    As he pulled into the parking lot and turned off his motorcycle, Madara quickly slipped the fake ID from his jacket pocket and put it in Tobirama’s hand before he could pull away. He waited for the boy to get off before he followed, glancing at his confused expression.

    “What is this?” he asked. “I have a driver’s license.”

    “I know,” Madara said. “But this club is twenty-one plus, and you’re eighteen.” Tobirama’s eyes widened.

    “Did you tell Hashirama?” Madara gave him a look.

    “Do you think he would have agreed to let you come if I did?”

    “Alright, but—what if I get in trouble? This is kind of serious, isn’t it?” Tobirama asked, though he followed Madara toward the club entrance, leaving their helmets on the bike handles.

    “You won’t get in trouble. I made sure to use the official format, and they only glance at it anyway,” the Uchiha said. “Just don’t act suspicious.”

    “Easier said than done…”

    They got in without a hitch despite Tobirama’s concerns. Honestly, those brothers were possessed by anxiety. Once inside, Madara let Tobirama take in the place. The main dance floor level was the heart of the party, but what Madara had in mind to show Tobirama required them to stay after hours.

    “I hope you slept well,” he said, raising his voice over the music as he grabbed Tobirama’s hand and led him into the throng of people. “We’re gonna be here for a while.”

    “What is that supposed to mean?” Tobirama asked, stumbling along behind him.

    “It means we’re gonna be here for a while,” Madara repeated with a roll of his eyes. He stopped once they were well into the midst of all the chaos. It may have still been early in the evening, but the club was known for being lively. Even so, this was nothing compared to the after-hours mayhem that required a special membership to attend. Luckily for the two of them, Madara had such a membership. It was one of the first unnecessary splurges he’d indulged in upon moving here and he had yet to regret it.

    Releasing Tobirama’s hand, Madara let the deep bass settle into his bones. He hadn’t been clubbing in some time, hadn’t had a reason to, and the way his body vibrated alongside the music was both nostalgic and thrilling. Being in such close quarters with Tobirama amplified the latter feeling, and he didn’t fight against the crowd as they were pushed yet closer together.

    “This isn’t really the kind of dancing I’m used to,” Tobirama said, barely loud enough to hear. Madara chuckled as he watched the boy look around at the varying degrees of public indecency surrounding them.

    “Then it will be good practice,” he said. “Besides, everyone should know how to dance in a club. Don’t tell me you’re intimidated?” A little challenging nudge never hurt in the grand scheme of human nature.

    As expected, Tobirama met his eyes, his own narrowing. “Of course not.”

    “Then what are you waiting for?” And with that, Madara fell into step with the beat, pumping and rolling his body with the rhythm that all but controlled his movements. He caught Tobirama off guard, but the boy had always been a quick learner. He began to match Madara’s movements, albeit tentatively, and in time they danced _with_ each other rather than one leading the other. The bass pulsed so thickly around them that Madara’s heartbeat was forced to fall into sync; he could feel it in his very veins. If it had been a long time since he had danced at a club, he couldn’t recall the last time he had done it while sober. It was decidedly underwhelming in comparison.

    “I’m going to get us drinks,” he said. “You can show me your real moves after we’re properly plastered.” He returned Tobirama’s smirk and slipped around him to navigate his way toward the bar. He would have to decide on their plans for afterward soon; there was no way in hell Madara was sending a drunk Tobirama back to his brother. He couldn’t take the boy back to his dorm, either. He pulled out his phone and began to search for nearby hotels while he waited for their drinks.

 

    Back on the dance floor, Tobirama swayed idly with the music. Lacking a dance partner made it difficult to do much more than that, despite the occasional broad that tried to fill that roll. Tobirama did his best to evade them politely without moving from his spot too much so that Madara would be able to find him again. For as anxious as he was about coming here, he thought he could actually have a good time. The place wasn’t trashy by any means, and just a few quick glances around provided evidence of Philadelphia’s widely accepting attitude. And he did mean _widely_. He was pretty sure the half-naked men on one of the platforms were not hired strippers.

    A hand on his shoulder made him jump somewhat, his head whipping around to follow its path across his back to his other shoulder. The owner stepped in front of him: a thin, pale thing around the same height as Madara with straight black hair and the cold-blooded eyes of a snake. Her (his?) eye makeup tapered into points along their nose, further enforcing the snake metaphor, and their smile was just as sharp.

    “Now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?” they asked, stepping into Tobirama’s personal space. His eyebrows drew together. _I’m taller than you…_

    “I’m, uh. I’m not alone. I’m here with someone,” he said, casually trying to back away, but they followed his movements.

    “Is that so? How inconsiderate of them to abandon you, then. I’ll be glad to keep you company if you’d like~” Even their speech was snake-like. Tobirama shivered.

    “That’s—really not necessary,” he said, chancing a glance in what he thought was the direction Madara left in. Still no sign of him. “I’m fine. Really.”

    “Oh, but I _insist_ . It’s really quite dangerous to be alone in a club,” the person said. “There are all sorts of slimy vermin just waiting to take advantage of sneaky children.” Tobirama’s eyes widened. Did they know he wasn’t allowed to be here? Were they part of security or something? Was this some sort of test to try to rat him out? _Dammit, Madara! Get back here already!_

    “I-I’m sure there are, but I can handle myself.” _You’re probably one of those “slimy vermin”._

    Just as the person made to take another step forward, a body placed itself between them and Tobirama. The albino blinked and looked down, then breathed out a sigh of relief. _It’s about time._

    “Is there a problem?” Madara asked in a tone of voice Tobirama wasn’t familiar with. It sent a shudder down his spine and those words weren’t even directed at him.

    The other person simply smiled, flashing pearly white teeth this time. “Madara Uchiha. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in some time.”

    “Orochimaru,” Madara returned. “What are you doing lurking around here? Aren’t you still on probation?” He turned to hold out a plastic cup to Tobirama, who took it wordlessly as he watched the exchange between the two.

    “It ended just last month. I’m a free man now,” Orochimaru said.

    “Man?” Madara asked, raising a brow. Orochimaru’s smile widened and Tobirama wondered how his face didn’t split into two.

    “For tonight.” What did that mean?

    “Then I suggest you keep your gnarly paws off _my_ man,” Madara said. Tobirama froze. “Or did you want me to refresh your memory?”

    Despite the underlying threat, Orochimaru only laughed. “My my, you do work fast, Madara. It seems to run in the family, doesn’t it?”

    “And you can steer clear of my family while you’re at it,” Madara added in _that_ tone of voice again.

    “So cold. I take it you haven’t gotten over that?”

    “No. I haven’t. Now kindly fuck off.”

    “How can I say no when you ask me so nicely? Well, at least let me give you both a parting gift. It’s the least I can do,” Orochimaru said, reaching back into a pants pocket. He pulled out what looked like two small goody powder packets, handing one to each of them. Tobirama only accepted it after seeing Madara do the same. “Ta ta for now, boys. Do try to have a little fun tonight.” And with that, he slipped away into the crowd.

    “...Okay, I have a lot of questions, but first of all, what the hell?” Tobirama stepped around to face Madara. “Who the fuck was that creep and _why_ do you know him?” Madara sighed.

    “Believe me, I wish I didn’t. It’s a long story,” he said. Then he gestured to the packets they held. “This is Ecstasy. Don’t take it if you don’t want to.” In spite of his words, Madara idly worked open the sides of the packet and downed the powdery contents in one go, washing it down with a couple large gulps of his drink. “It tastes like ass, fair warning.”

    “ _Madara!_ ” He didn’t mean to sound so scandalized, but his mind was reeling with everything that just transpired. “How can you trust what that guy gives you?”

    “I’ve dealt with him before,” Madara said with a shrug. “He used to live in the same town as us. I’m pretty sure he followed me here,” he added with a grimace. Tobirama gaped.

    “ _Why?_ ”

    “Because he’s obsessed? Like stalker-level obsessed.” Madara shook himself as if to escape a bad memory. “And not just with me. He’s approached practically my entire family.”

    “Okay, you _really_ need to sit down and explain this in more detail at some point. Preferably soon,” Tobirama said, heaving a sigh. “Anyway, are you really sure this is safe?” He held up the packet in his hand. Madara nodded.

    “Positive. But like I said, don’t take it if you don’t want to,” he said. “I’m not sure this is the best place for your first time if you decide to anyway.” Tobirama studied the packet.

    “...What does it do?” he asked finally.

    “It makes you feel really, _really_ good.” Madara smiled then, and as the coloured lights passed over his face, Tobirama could see the man’s pupils widening already. “It’s called ‘Ecstasy’ for a reason.” The Senju eyed him for a moment, then looked back down at the packet before putting it in his pocket.

    “I’ll think about it,” he decided. The way Madara’s expression softened was almost reverent, which reminded him… “By the way, ‘my man’?” He raised a brow. Madara blinked for a moment before laughing.

    “Sorry, sorry. The dude’s a creep, but he’s not a sleazebag. I just wanted him to leave you alone,” he said as he began rocking to the music once more, stepping close to Tobirama. “Did it bother you?” he asked.

    “...Not really,” Tobirama said, giving Madara a brief once-over. His jacket had been zipped up until now and Tobirama finally saw the flimsy shirt he wore beneath it. It showed off his muscles gorgeously, along with a little red and black number along his hip that he couldn’t help but linger on. Even more so when that hip rubbed against his own.

    “It used to be my old gang emblem,” Madara provided, drawing Tobirama’s eyes back to his. The Uchiha’s face was far closer than he had thought and he found their breath mingling in the air between them, but he didn’t pull away.

    “I didn’t know you were in a gang,” he said, blinking. Madara chuckled, dropping his head momentarily before lifting it again.

    “It wasn’t even really a gang. Just me and a few idiot friends who thought we were all that,” he said. Tobirama smirked.

    “Sounds about right.” Madara returned the smile before reaching up to tap Tobirama’s neglected cup with his own half-empty one.

    “Are you going to drink or not? I’m miles ahead of you already,” he said. Tobirama lifted the cup to his lips without looking away from Madara, tasting the bitter alcohol and resolving to chugging it before his gag reflex could kick in. Madara laughed and toasted him again.

    “That stuff really works, huh?” Tobirama asked in regards to the drug. Madara looked half out of it, but in a good way, from the looks of it.

    “I told you. This shit’s my favourite,” the man said.

    “You’ve done a lot?” Tobirama asked.

    “Mmm… You could say that.” Madara’s grin made him think “a lot” didn’t even begin to cover it. “All in moderation. Don’t worry. I’m not a total druggie.”

    “Good. Hashirama would run your ass ragged if you were,” Tobirama said. Madara pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment as he gently pressed up against Tobirama’s chest.

    “Let’s not talk about your brother,” he said. Tobirama blinked, but nodded. His eyes lingered on Madara again as he took another swig, then finished it impatiently. He snatched Madara’s cup out of his hand before he could protest.

    “You’re miles ahead of me, remember? I’ll catch up and then we can get down to business,” he said. He downed the rest of the second cup’s contents, forcing back a wince at the burn it left in his throat, then shot the cups into a nearby trashcan. With both of his hands free now, he grabbed Madara’s hips, guiding him backward as he brought them back into the heart of the crowd.

 

    Madara was on an entirely different level. He felt as if he were swimming in the music, feathers beneath his skin keeping him afloat. Ecstasy was all about physical sensation rather than visual hallucination, and that was what Madara loved about it. He didn’t have to focus too hard or fear a bad trip; it never failed to be a good time. His tolerance was practically nonexistent by this point; he’d been relatively clean ever since starting college. He actually enjoyed taking a break from drugs, and he had no intention of falling back into his old bad habits now, but this was an opportunity like no other and he would regretfully have to thank Orochimaru for providing it. He probably hadn’t thought much of giving them the drugs at first, but in truth he had done Madara a huge favour. Now he could actually relax and not fear looking like a total idiot at the same time.

    Tobirama’s hands on his hips felt like fire and he had to stifle a gasp (he may or may not have succeeded). This would be an interesting battle between his pride and wishing Tobirama would just keep touching him. Dancing had almost left the equation entirely. However, when the Senju began, Madara couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

    Despite the vague timidness remnant from being a non-adult that Tobirama still sometimes displayed, his confidence really shone through once he started moving. He was startlingly aggressive, exhibiting a total domination of space as he moved around Madara in ways he was hopeless to keep up with. If there weren’t two drugs duking it out in his body, he would probably be less than impressed, but as it were he could only rock along with the beat as Tobirama spurred him on with teasing brushes of his hands and breaths that lingered too long near his ears. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that Tobirama was a filthy liar and he knew _exactly_ how to work a club floor.

    Even so, Madara couldn’t help but notice traces of restraint here and there. The abandoned attempts at grinding into him from behind, the way he parted the hot friction between their chests before Madara could give in and reach out for him, the averted gazes when Madara refused to look away first.

    He had had just about enough of that.

    The next time Tobirama slipped behind him, Madara reached back and took his wrists, planting those hands firmly on his hips.

    “Madara?” Tobirama asked in his ear with just the slightest crack in his voice. The Uchiha smirked devilishly, bringing up his hands to thread his fingers through Tobirama’s hair.

    “You win,” he breathed. He didn’t know if Tobirama heard him over the music or not, but he didn’t bother to check. Instead, he ground back shamelessly, shivering at the shuddered breath in his ear. Tobirama’s hands tightened on his hips and Madara rolled them into his grip, fisting that snow white hair as he tilted back his head, revealing his neck. The Senju’s hot breath ghosted over his skin, raising goosebumps in its wake as Madara arched his back. He had lost any and all inhibition in this state and he was beyond glad Tobirama didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually.

    Only a few more beats later and the boy matched his movements, practically rutting against Madara’s ass. The sweaty mass of bodies around them were none the wiser, likely too engaged in similar activities to pay much mind to the two of them. But fuck if Madara didn’t feel centre-stage. The world moved around him, spinning and lurching as the body pinned against him kept him grounded. His own body felt unbearably hot despite the cool air wafting around them. He could feel his heartbeat acutely in his chest, in his ears, and most definitely in his cock. He was thankful for his decision to wear such loose pants.

    The friction was better than the Ecstasy itself, and before he knew it he was right on the edge. He gasped out in Tobirama’s grip, stilling as he forced air in and out of his lungs. Tobirama paused as well, chin hooked over his shoulder and cheek just brushing against Madara’s.

    “...Let’s get out of here,” the boy said after a few painful seconds. Madara nodded numbly, offering no resistance as Tobirama led him out of the crowd and out of the club.

    The ride to the hotel thankfully went without casualty; Madara had been lucky enough to find a place only a couple blocks away from the club. The hyper-clarity afforded by the Ecstasy worked well enough to keep him focused on the road through his inebriation, and the exhilaration kept up his confidence. His heart thudded in his chest, sure to be felt by the palm resting against it, and if he weren’t so engrossed in all that he could imagine would come next he might have tried to see if Tobirama were in the same state.

    Paying for the room and getting there were all a blur to the Uchiha. As soon as the door closed behind them, though, he rounded on Tobirama, immediately pressing up against him as he latched his lips onto the pale column of his neck. He felt the startled groan on his tongue, tasting the salty sweat of his skin. To his surprise and confusion, however, Tobirama’s hands planted themselves on his chest and pushed him away. He looked up at the boy with dazed eyes, eyebrows drawing together. Tobirama just sighed and gently grabbed his arms instead, turning him around to nudge him farther into the room.

    “You’re drunk,” he stated, “and doped up. It’s a miracle we made it here alive.”

    A heavy weight amassed itself in Madara’s stomach, constricting his chest and tightening in his throat as he was guided toward the bed.

    “It’s a good thing I didn’t take that stuff,” Tobirama went on. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had.”

    “I’m sorry.” The words spilled over his lips before he could stop them. “I’m sorry, I—” Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, Tobirama’s voice hushing him softly.

    “Don’t worry. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he murmured. Madara did not feel “okay”. He felt quite the opposite of “okay”.

    _What the hell am I doing?_ he thought. _What was I_ thinking _? If Hashirama finds out, about any of this, he’ll—I’ll—_

    He wanted to fucking cry. The pit that had opened up in his stomach had as much to do with the blatant rejection as the realization that he was setting a horrible, horrible example for Tobirama.

    _“He looks up to you, so he’ll probably be more eager to follow your example than mine.”_

    And there go the waterworks. Tobirama must have felt the tears fall on his arms because he spun Madara around suddenly to see for himself the pitiful state the Uchiha was in.

    “Shit, Madara.” He enveloped the man in another hug, this one tighter and more secure. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” The building hysteria in Madara’s chest proved otherwise.

    He couldn’t even work out the words he wanted to say. _Please don’t look up to me. Please don’t follow in my footsteps. Please, God, do something better with your life. Don’t become the sad, lonely bastard I am. Please, please…_

    Madara squeezed shut his eyes and buried his face in Tobirama’s shoulder. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad. He _knew_ better. He’d always known better. He wasn’t stupid, so why…?

    _Why do I always fuck up like this?_

    He didn’t realize he was shaking until Tobirama pulled away, leaving him uncomfortably cold in absence of the boy’s warmth. He didn’t dare meet Tobirama’s eyes. He had hit the lowest of lows, and a part of him knew it was due in part to the Ecstasy. They must have been at that club for hours longer than it had felt to Madara; the spike of endorphins had run its course and now he was in severe lack of them. Chances were that he would not feel any better tomorrow, if he were even able to sleep. In light of recent events, he highly doubted it.

    Without Madara’s being consciously aware of it, Tobirama had maneuvered them to sit on the bed. Madara leaned against Tobirama, more than grateful for the security of his arms even though he didn’t think he deserved it. The Senju rubbed his back rhythmically, his other hand on the back of Madara’s head and gently stroking his hair. His cheek rested atop the Uchiha’s head and the latter’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt Tobirama turn slightly to place a soft kiss there. It was oddly reminiscent of a parental gesture and it settled Madara’s nerves more than an actual kiss ever could.

    He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he was content not to move for the next week. Unfortunately, he had promised to have Tobirama home by tomorrow at the latest. He must have been cheating Fate somehow to have Hashirama put so much misplaced trust in him to take care of his little brother. He knew well what Madara’s record was like and he had no reason to believe it had changed in the slightest. And still, he…

    Madara blinked back another wave of tears.

    “...I’m going to tell your brother what happened,” he said then. He winced at how hoarse his voice was and cleared his throat a little. Tobirama froze beside him, then slowly eased back to look at Madara.

    “That’s not a good idea,” he said, although something in his voice lacked the conviction to discourage Madara.

    “I know it’s not,” he agreed. “But...he deserves to know. I shouldn’t keep something like this from him, and neither should you.” With a deep breath, he placed a hand on Tobirama’s chest and pushed himself up so that he wasn’t completely leaning against the boy. “I’d rather suffer any kind of torture he could put me through than go on letting him believe I’m a responsible adult.” He gave a little self-deprecating laugh at this last. Tobirama frowned.

    “What if he doesn’t let us hang out anymore?” he asked softly. Madara heaved a sigh.

    “To be frank with you, I wouldn’t blame him if he hated me after this,” he said, not meeting the albino’s eyes. “It’s probably for the best. Your brother is an intelligent man, despite all odds. If he thinks I’m not good for you, then he’s probably right.”

    “...Are you really willing to risk your friendship with him over this?” Tobirama asked. Madara looked up to meet his gaze now.

    “Yes,” he said. “I’m a bad influence, Tobirama. No one needs my shit in their life.”

    He looked down again, but his eyes were drawn to their hands as Tobirama took his. Slowly, he interlaced their fingers. Madara blinked and looked at him again.

    “What if I want you in my life?” he asked so quietly Madara wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. He searched his eyes for any hint of miscommunication, but when he found none, he pressed together his lips in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

    “Then I just hope you know what you’re getting into because I don’t,” he said. Tobirama leaned forward to rest their foreheads together and he held Madara’s gaze.

    “I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

    And with that, Tobirama kissed him.


	5. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for all your continued support!! i really really appreciate all the comments and interest in this story ^^ there will be one more chapter after this, then the epilogue, and then the sneak peak/behind the scenes chapter i promised! and then after that i'll get started on the kinkfill~ hopefully the next chapter will tide you all over in that department, though ;)

_“Don’t tell Hashirama about that.”_

_“Good idea.”_

_“Can I do it again?”_

_“Absolutely.”_

 

    The next day, Madara stood before Hashirama with his head hung. He had told him everything: the fake ID, the alcohol, the run in with Orochimaru and the drugs, the fact that he let Tobirama ride on his motorcycle while under multiple influences. Needless to say, Hashirama threw a right fit. He promptly confiscated the packet of Ecstasy Tobirama still had and yelled at the both of them, but mostly Madara. The tears of relief and anger and worry running down Hashirama’s face made _him_ want to start crying again just for putting the poor bloke through this emotional havoc.

    As Hashirama concluded his rant, Madara prepared to be kicked out of the house and told never to come back and especially never to come near Tobirama again. The younger Senju had ended up on the other side of the living room in the wake of Hashirama’s fury, face paler than usual and eyes downcast. Watching everything fall apart like this and knowing it was his fault opened a larger, darker pit inside of Madara that promised a life full of misery and regret.

    Hashirama hugged him.

    Madara’s entire body seized up, eyes flying open wide as he felt his back pop under the force of Hashirama’s embrace. He couldn’t bring himself to complain, however, even as the air was stolen away from, let alone could he make his mind work long enough to form a coherent thought.

    “Don’t _ever_ scare me like that again,” Hashirama sobbed, face buried in Madara’s shoulder. “If anything had happened to you, I...I...I don’t know what I would have done. You and Tobirama are so important to me, and I love you both so much, and I don’t ever want to lose you. Do you hear me?”

    Madara couldn’t respond. His vision was blurry and there was a wet sensation on his cheeks and he couldn’t _breathe_. Hashirama pulled back and gripped him by the shoulders, looking him right in the eye.

    “I said, do you hear me?”

    Madara gaped.

    “You… _Why?_ ”

    “ _Why? God_ , I could slap you, you’re so dumb,” Hashirama said, laughing shakily through his tears. “I’m sorry. You’re not dumb. But you really need to accept that you’re my friend and you always will be. So _please,_ ” he paused to take a deep, steadying breath, “please, take better care of yourself. I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you. And I know I can’t stop you from doing drugs and I won’t try to stop you from drinking and I know I can’t help you in school a lot and I know you have a lot on your plate and—”

    Madara pulled him into another hug before he could turn into another blubbering mess (and that went for himself, too). Hashirama took a shaky breath and hugged him back, holding him close as if he were genuinely afraid that he could have lost Madara. And he could have.

    Hashirama was wrong. Madara was beyond dumb.

    “I’m sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.” He squeezed shut his eyes. “I won’t do drugs anymore, I promise. I promise, so please...don’t cry.”

    Tobirama’s words from last night echoed in his head. He opened his eyes to search for the boy across the room, only to find he was already watching them. Relief shined in his eyes, and if Madara didn’t know any better he would say he was on the verge of tears too. He only smiled, however, and Madara felt that pit closing up little by little. Hashirama was willing to forgive him, and that warranted some serious effort on his part to get his act together.

    Afterward, Hashirama made them both give their two remaining dogs baths, then take them on a walk (cleaning up after them along the way), and then a long, long list of chores that took the rest of the day, including, but not limited to: taking out the trash, spraying the grime off the sides of the house, doing the dishes, mopping the floors, et cetera et cetera. He also coerced Madara into doing a week’s worth of volunteer work at the local shelter, while Tobirama was forced to contact his school and sign up to be the mascot for the upcoming football game (they were implementing a tentative Abraham Lincoln costume in an attempt to raise the “school spirit”). Madara promised to be there of his own accord (after ascertaining that it was not, thankfully, on the same day as Saburo’s next basketball game).

    Hashirama casually stated that he would attend with his girlfriend, Mito Uzumaki, and Madara made certain he knew just how offended he was for not being told about this girlfriend sooner. Apparently they had gotten together only recently, so Madara let it slide ( _“Just this once. If this happens again, you owe me home-cooked breakfast for a week”_ ). Which, of course, prompted them to take note of the time.

    “Are you sure you don’t want to stay over again?” Hashirama asked. Madara shook his head as he gathered his things by the door.

    “I need to make sure the pipsqueak hasn’t raided my stuff. I think he’s onto my snack stash,” he said. Hashirama laughed.

    “Alright then. Don’t be a stranger,” he said. Madara rolled his eyes.

    “How can I? We see each other almost every day.” He returned Hashirama’s embrace, however, then let his eyes drift to Tobirama, who stood just behind Hashirama.

    “I’m not hugging you,” the younger Senju said matter-of-factly. “We both smell like cheese warmed over pavement and I don’t want to find out what’s sticking in your hair.” Madara scoffed.

    “It wouldn’t be as bad if you hadn’t let your hounds knock their bath water on us,” he pointed out.

    “ _Me?_ You’re the one who doesn’t know how to wash a dog!”

    “Please. I saw you egging them on.”

    “Now now, boys, that’s enough,” Hashirama said, raising his hands as he stood between them. “You’re both smelly. All the more reason to hurry and take a shower.” He began shooing Tobirama toward the bathroom. Madara chuckled as he pulled on his gloves, glancing up just in time to see Tobirama throw a smirk at him over his shoulder.

    _What a punk._

 

    As Madara approached his dorm room and fished out his keys, he scrolled through his phone to check for any notifications he had missed during his slave labour, leaving him blissfully unaware of the sounds coming from inside the room until it was too late. Opening the door, he made the mistake of looking up to find Yagura... _entertaining_ a guest. A guest who just happened to be Saburo. Who was swapping spit with his roommate on the bed.

    “Get out,” Yagura said, bolting upright.

    “Oh my god.”

    “Get _out_.”

    “Oh my _god_.”

    “Get out get out get out!”

    Madara narrowly avoided the shoe thrown at his head by closing the door, unable to control his laughter. He heard the thud of a second shoe hit the door and he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. Now, if that weren’t the funniest shit, he just didn’t know what was.

    _At least he’s moved on_ , Madara thought as he regained his breath. Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone again, opening Hashirama’s contact.

 

_I’ll stay the night after all_

 

_:?_

 

* * *

 

    As it turned out, Madara returned to the Senju Residence just in time for supper. He would have to thank Yagura later for giving him the opportunity to enjoy Hashirama’s cooking once more. He was allowed to use the shower again, and luckily he was able to dress in his own clothes that he had accidentally left the last time he stayed the night. Not that he would have minded wearing Tobirama’s clothes again.

    (He was able to refrain from jacking off this time, thank you very much.)

    Eating supper with the Senju in their home proved to be less awkward than Madara had thought it would be, especially after the events that had recently transpired. Hashirama was good-natured and talkative as always, and Madara and Tobirama exchanged snide remarks in between actual conversation. Hashirama eventually asked about what the club was like, incidents aside, and Madara told him it was actually very nice and a common haunt for the MOGAI community, hence Orochimaru’s presence (they were genderfluid). He and Hashirama mused that that must have meant Jiraiya was there, too; Tobirama asked who Jiraiya was and they explained that he was essentially Orochimaru’s sugar daddy (phrasing accredited to Madara, reprimanded by Hashirama).

    All things considered, it was a lovely evening and Hashirama suggested that they do it more often.

    “Careful, Hashirama,” Madara warned. “What will your girlfriend think if your gay best friend comes over more often than she does?” Hashirama gave him a look as he gathered the dishes and brought them to the sink.

    “Not to worry, I’ve told her all about you and how we’re _just_ friends,” he said. “Besides, we agreed that I would go over to her place most of the time. I don’t want to risk scarring poor Tobirama.” Said Senju feigned a gag.

    “TMI,” he said. Hashirama smiled apologetically. Madara whistled.

    “Since when do you work so fast? I don’t remember you ever even _having_ a girlfriend in high school,” he said. Hashirama chuckled.

    “She’s really one of a kind,” he said. “We have a lot in common, but not too much, you know? It’s fun getting to know her and I think she feels the same.”

    “You think? Come on, have more confidence than that.”

    “He’s going to need it,” Tobirama chipped in. “She might just be worse than you.” Madara stuck out his tongue briefly, but Tobirama just smirked and licked his lips in response while Hashirama wasn’t looking. Madara promptly turned away.

    “That’s not a nice thing to say about either of them, Tobirama,” Hashirama said, glancing back with a pointed look. “Mito is a lovely woman. A prime example of refined nobility.”

    “Nobility?” Madara asked, raising his brows. “Elaborate.” Hashirama’s lips tugged upward in that I’m-one-lucky-bastard-but-I-don’t-want-to-brag-about-it way.

    “Her mother’s side comes from royalty in England,” he said. “And I think her father is related to some old feudal lord whose family is still considered very aristocratic. Yes, they’re very wealthy, but that’s besides the point.” After putting away all the dishes, Hashirama turned around to lean back against the counter. “She’s very cultured and intelligent, and open-minded, too. She doesn’t share very many opinions with her parents, but she can win over anyone with diplomacy when she puts her mind to it.”

    “She does sound lovely,” Madara agreed with a nod. “You’ll have to introduce us sometime.” Hashirama positively beamed.

    “Of course! She’d love to meet you, I’m sure.” He pushed off the counter then and waved for Madara to follow him to the living room. “Come on, help me set up the futon.”

    Tobirama cleared his throat, standing to follow them. “He can sleep in my room if he wants,” he said. Both men turned to look at him.

    “Aw, that’s nice of you. But where will you sleep?” Hashirama asked.

    “I can take the futon. I have to stay up and write an essay anyway, and I need to reference some books,” Tobirama said, gesturing to the bookshelf in the living room.

    “Well, okay then. Madara?” Hashirama turned to the Uchiha, who looked between the two Senju for a moment, squinting.

    “...Sure,” he said after a moment. Tobirama raised his hands.

    “It’s clean in there, I swear,” he said. “Just don’t look under the bed.” His wink suggested sarcasm, but Hashirama gasped.

    “What do you have under your bed?” He immediately took off to find out and Tobirama bolted after him.

    “Nothing! I was kidding! Stay out of my room!”

    Madara watched them go with an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. Those brothers were something else.

    Several scandalized screeches and poorly muffled argument later, Hashirama and Tobirama returned to the living room. Madara had taken the liberty of unfolding the futon and dressing it for Tobirama and he looked up as they filed out of the hallway.

    “I can’t _believe_ you own something like that,” Hashirama said, a faint blush still present on his face. Tobirama sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

    “I really hate you sometimes,” he said. “Anyway, it’s all clear. We changed the sheets for you, too.”

    “How kind of you,” Madara said, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. Tobirama shrugged past him, setting down a laptop case on the futon and unloading its contents. Hashirama led Madara back to Tobirama’s room.

    “Do _not_ look under his bed,” the Senju warned. Madara snorted.

    “I’ve probably seen worse.”

    “Madara!”

    “ _What?_ ” The Uchiha chuckled and shooed away Hashirama. “Go on before I go into detail.” The brunet gaped and looked as though he had some choice words to say to that, but he closed his mouth and pursed his lips, crossing his arms as he turned to leave. Madara lightly slapped his ass on the way out. “Don’t think too hard about it~” Hashirama jumped and squeaked and held both hands over his rear, hurrying away with a very brief middle finger.

    Madara laughed and closed the door, finally taking a moment to study Tobirama’s room. It was impeccably tidy, as to be expected, but it held more evidence of personality than the rest of the house. There was a TV, but no remote, only a gaming console and its controllers, which didn’t surprise Madara. A brief scan of the stack of games offered a wide variety of genres, some of which looked as if they hadn’t been touched in a while. The bed was dressed in greyscale covers, a fuzzy blanket folded at the foot of the mattress. Madara chuckled and ran his fingers through it, enjoying the texture.

    Two sets of bookshelves lined the wall on either side of Tobirama’s bed, each filled to the brim with literature of many kinds. One bookshelf was devoted entirely to scientific theory, and just looking at it gave Madara a headache. A few obscure band posters decorated the walls, and a desk was tucked into a corner of the room, an empty space in the middle where Madara assumed the boy’s laptop usually sat. There were numerous files sorted into holders on the surface as well as the side shelves, most of which were filled with papers that Madara didn’t bother to touch. He didn’t need to look at them to know that they consisted purely of nerd porn (that was, boring text that held little to no relevance to anything ever).

    Curiosity satisfied, Madara peeled back the bed covers and slipped beneath them, momentarily taken aback by a scent that washed over him that was undoubtedly _Tobirama_. He inhaled deeply once, closing his eyes as he pressed his face into the pillow. It was almost as comforting as being in his arms, but not quite. He imagined he wouldn’t find anything to top that feeling in long, long time.

    And speaking of long times, it just so happened that tonight would be the night that his body refused its natural need for sleep. An hour or so passed of Madara simply lying there, willing desperately for his mind to shut off as he shifted restlessly this way and that. Now he lay on his back, staring at the dark ceiling with contempt. He supposed he should have expected it. After the day’s stress, both emotional and physical, it was no wonder that it got to him more than he realized. Maybe he should seek out professional help after all.

    After another five minutes that Madara counted the seconds to in an attempt to bore himself to sleep (which instead only kept his mind focused on not messing up his counts), he sighed and pushed off the covers, slipping out of the bed regretfully. Perhaps, if nothing else, he could take his bike out to the lake like he’d been wanting to. Riding had always calmed his nerves when all he had to think about was the wind in his hair and the scenery flashing by him.

    As he walked out into the living room, he found Tobirama still sitting up on the futon, computer in lap and glasses hanging off his nose. The boy snapped up his head upon seeing Madara, reaching up to pull the headphones from his ears.

    “Sorry,” Madara said, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disturb Hashirama potentially. “Didn’t mean to disturb your nerdness.” Tobirama rolled his eyes.

    “Can’t sleep?” he asked; Madara sighed and nodded, detouring to the kitchen to snatch a juice pouch. He heard another bout of typing and a series of clicking as he returned to the living room in time to see Tobirama putting away his glasses.

    “Don’t stop on my account,” Madara said, sitting down on the makeshift mattress to take a peek at the boy’s computer screen. “What’s the essay about?”

    “We’re supposed to write a short narrative about what we thought might have happened during the Abraham Lincoln assassination,” Tobirama said with a sigh. “It’s a real pain. I’m better with strictly non-fictional stuff.” Madara hummed, sucking on the juice pouch. “But I’m finished. I just had to revise a couple things.” Closing his laptop and setting it to the side of the futon, Tobirama raised his arms above his head to stretch. Madara’s eyes wandered over the tug of his shirt on their own accord, but he didn’t go to any great lengths to hide the fact. Surely enough, Tobirama caught him red-...eyed. He smirked. “Like what you see?”

    Madara snorted, turning away to stand up. “As if.” He walked over to the doorway to begin putting on his shoes, jacket, and gloves. “I’m going for a ride down to the lake,” he said, glancing over at Tobirama. The boy fiddled with the hem of his blanket.

    “Do you want some company?” he asked tentatively. Madara smirked.

    “I wouldn’t mind.”

 

    Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park was one of the most peaceful places to be found at night. A skatepark resided under the nearby overpass and was almost always occupied by at least a couple skaters at any given moment, but they offered decent background noise in addition to the traffic. Madara particularly enjoyed the gazebo overlooking Meadow Lake, which was where he led Tobirama after dismounting his bike.

    Right now they sat on the ground of said gazebo, Madara’s arm draped over Tobirama’s shoulders while the latter’s head rested in the crook of his neck. It was just cold enough to keep on his leather jacket and the fuzzy collar of Tobirama’s nearly consumed the boy’s face. It was cute, Madara conceded internally, finding himself sneaking glances at the Senju every so often.

    “I’m glad we moved here,” Tobirama said after a while, voice muffled by his jacket. “Hashirama decided to after I came out to him. Said he didn’t want me growing up in that kind of environment anymore.” Madara blinked at that, then chuckled.

    “Your brother is a piece of work,” he said. “But thank God for him. I’m surprised he didn’t move after...everything that happened, though.”

    “We moved out of that neighbourhood,” Tobirama said. “But the general opinion of Mississippi is the same no matter where you go.” Madara hummed and rubbed Tobirama’s shoulder.

    “I’m glad you got out of there,” he agreed. “You should have told Hashirama sooner. It was probably hell for you.”

    “What was it like for you?” Tobirama asked, tilting up his head slightly. “Were you out to anybody?”

    Madara sighed and nodded. “Yeah, but my idiot teenage self only made it worse. That’s how my ‘gang’ got started.”

    “Tell me about it,” Tobirama urged. Madara smiled, partly out of nostalgia and partly due to Tobirama’s eagerness.

    “It’s how I met Orochimaru,” he began. “Actually, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that’s the reason he took such an interest in my family. He was our gang’s drug dealer because nobody else wanted to get involved in that noise, and for good reason. Orochimaru constantly tried to tempt my relatives living in the area. Namely Sasuke and his brother.”

    “They’re your cousins, right? I think I’ve met them,” Tobirama said; Madara nodded.

    “Somewhere along that line. They were both little prodigies of their own, too, though. Itachi once threatened to report Orochimaru directly to their father, who was head of the police department at the time. That got him to back off for a while, at least.

    “And the rest of us… Well, we were just a bunch of trouble-makers,” Madara continued. “We raised hell for Itachi’s dad, that’s for sure. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been in detainment.” Tobirama poked his side.

    “Brag about it, Smooth Criminal.” Madara quirked a brow.

    “I thought you said I wasn’t smooth?”

    Tobirama hummed, flattening his palm against Madara’s chest. “There’s room for improvement,” he amended. Madara smirked, leaning down.

    “I’ll get started right away~”

    Tobirama’s lips were soft and as warm as the rest of him. Smooth to a fault, unlike Madara’s which were constantly victim to his worrying teeth. Tobirama didn’t seem to mind; encouraged it, even, as he sucked on Madara’s bottom lip to nibble on it softly. The Uchiha made a quiet noise of content, tongue peeking out to trace the seam of Tobirama’s lips. They parted obediently, his own tongue sliding along Madara’s as a slow dance ensued. There was no battling for dominance, not this time. Although, Madara couldn’t help but muse just how that battle would turn out.

    When they pulled away, their breath puffed against each other’s cheeks, eyes gazing into one another as if that were all the communication they needed. And maybe it was.

    “So what does this mean?” Tobirama asked once they’d calmed down somewhat. Madara stroked a thumb over his cheek.

    “What does what mean?” he asked.

    “Us. You know. _This_.”

    Oh, right. That was a thing.

    Madara pursed his lips, eyes searching Tobirama’s face as he moved his hand to card through that white hair of his.

    “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I haven’t really thought about it.” Tobirama shifted slightly, expression pensive.

    “I remember you saying you wanted to focus on your studies,” he said. “I don’t want to get in the way of that.” Madara took a deep breath and leaned his head on Tobirama’s, closing his eyes.

    “Let me think about it,” he said after a moment. “I definitely like you. But I think a few more dates are in order before I decide anything.

    “Are you sure? If it’s just going to stress you out—”

    “It won’t,” Madara said. “It would stress me out more if I kept you waiting until you lost interest.” Tobirama turned away his head slightly.

    “...I’ve had a crush on you since I was little. I don’t think my interest is going anywhere.”

    Madara choked on his own spit (again) and he had to pull away to let it run its course before he shot Tobirama a wide-eyed glance.

    “You _what?_ ”

    Tobirama clicked his tongue, crossing his arms and not looking up at Madara.

    “Don’t act so surprised.”

    _“Isn’t it obvious?”_

    Hashirama’s words rang in his mind. Was _this_ what he was talking about? Why the _hell_ didn’t he just say that? It probably would have saved Madara a lot of emotional turmoil.

    Surprising himself as well as Tobirama, Madara laughed. He tried to placate Tobirama’s offended accusations between his fits to little avail. Fate had a sense of humour after all.

 

    Eventually they returned to Hashirama’s house, doing their best to enter quietly so as not to wake the elder Senju. Tobirama tempted Madara onto the futon for some intense making-out interspersed with barely muffled laughter as Madara’s hands wandered and found a good number of ticklish spots on the boy’s body. Tobirama returned the gesture in kind, discovering just how sensitive the back of Madara’s neck was with deadly precision. Of course, that sensitivity was a two-way street and it was all Madara could do not to jump him then and there. The only things stopping him were a muddled sense of propriety and Hashirama’s presence in the house, but that was all he needed.

    “So,” Madara said once they had settled down. They lay along the futon with Tobirama half-draped over the Uchiha’s chest, a leg resting between his own. “What’s under your bed?”

    “You didn’t already look?” Tobirama asked with a chuckle.

    “No. I do make an effort to respect people’s privacy when I can,” Madara said, lightly flicking the boy’s head. Tobirama hummed.

    “A dildo vibe,” he said plainly. Madara raised and dropped his eyebrows.

    “My my, Tobirama. You are quite the scoundrel, aren’t you?” he said, tracing his finger along the albino’s spine. “Do you use it often?” He felt Tobirama smile against his chest.

    “Mm, not as often as I would like,” he said, slipping his fingers just beneath the hem of Madara’s shirt. “I never know when Hashirama’s going to barge in.”

    Madara let his fingers dip into the waistline of Tobirama’s pants, relishing the minute shudder it elicited. “That’s a shame. I’m sure it’s quite the experience.”

    “Mhm. I’ll have to show you sometime.” That gave Madara pause, and he did everything in his power not to imagine _that_ right at this very moment.

    “I can’t say I’d complain,” he said. He was sure Tobirama could feel the hammer of his heart, but if he could he didn’t mention it. Madara withdrew his hand with a pat to the boy’s rear. “You should get some sleep. I can’t let your brother find us together again lest he take more pictures.” Tobirama tilted up his head to look at him.

    “Are you tired?” he asked. Madara pursed his lips.

    “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep,” he confessed. “But I’m not going to keep you up any longer.” He leaned down to kiss Tobirama’s forehead. “Thank you for staying up with me this long.” Tobirama shifted up to kiss his cheek and then his lips before allowing him to disentangle himself from the boy.

    “When are you leaving tomorrow?” he asked, watching Madara from his pillow.

    “Oh, I don’t know,” the Uchiha said, sighing. “I’ll just have to text the pipsqueak and see. I don’t want to risk another run in like today.” He shuddered at the mere memory.

    “What happened?”

    “Evidently, he and Saburo hooked up.” Tobirama snorted.

    “S’at mean dude’ll hop off your dick finally?” Madara snickered and reached down to ruffle Tobirama’s hair before kissing his head.

    “Hopefully. Good night,” he murmured.

    “Good night.”

    As it turned out, Madara was able to sleep rather peacefully, although he wasn’t spared a fevered wet dream or two.


	6. Unfinished Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the Sex. since i already have it written, i'm going to upload the epilogue right after this. you'll just have to bear with me for the sneak peak/behind the scenes chapter ^^; enjoy~

    The next two weeks were absolute torture.

    Tobirama made good on his promise to “show” Madara just what that toy of his was good for via sporadic pictures that grew more and more risque to the point that Madara had second thoughts about opening any of his texts in public. But don’t get him wrong; he certainly wasn’t complaining. Yagura was gone most nights now, which afforded Madara all the time in the world to thoroughly enjoy these little gifts. And _God_ were they something. The first few had been tame in comparison to what was displayed on his screen now.

    None of them featured the boy’s face, and just as well. Madara had no intention of ever letting these slip out of his exclusive possession, but he approved of the safety measures. Especially with that lacy little white number adorned with a faux-fur collar that did positively devilish things to Madara. In this particular picture, Tobirama sat on spread knees, showing off his creamy, muscular thighs and leaving little of to the imagination of what lay between his legs. In the next picture, a hint of that blue toy protruded from his ass where he had pulled aside the thong that was in serious danger of the growing bulge in the front. Madara groaned at the sight, palming his own erection through his boxers. He simultaneously dreaded and longed for the day that he would get to see Tobirama in that lingerie in person, although he doubted the boy would be wearing it for long.

    Pushing down the elastic of his boxers to free his dick, Madara gave himself a few strokes to spread the pre-cum beading at the tip over his shaft, offering a slick gleam as he positioned his phone to take a picture. Tobirama had yet to reveal himself so fully, but Madara felt he owed the Senju for the collection he now had on his phone. He sent the image and continued to stroke himself, thumbing over his slit and keeping his pace slow.

    A minute passed before Tobirama replied.

 

_You’re bigger than my dildo. I’m jealous._

 

_I’m only this hard because of you. I love your lingerie_

 

_You wanna take it off me?_

 

_You have no idea. I’d use my teeth. Lick and kiss and bite you all over_

 

_That’s hot. I want your mouth on me. I want you to leave marks._

 

    Madara shuddered, smirking as he bit into his bottom lip just imagining what kind of marks he’d love to leave on that boy. He quickened his pace a little, pausing to fish out his balls so he could massage them briefly.

 

_I’ve thought about doing that and more. I’d mark you where everyone can see it_

 

_What else have you thought about doing?_

 

    Oh, but did Tobirama _really_ want him to go into detail? Madara pondered it, wondering if it were worth exposing Tobirama to the bare minimum of his kinks. His shower fantasy had hardly covered it, but even that posed its own risks. He didn’t want to scare off the poor kid. Pursing his lips, he decided on something relatively tame, but accurate to his thoughts.

 

_Fucking your mouth while I pull your hair_

 

    The immediate response made Madara hesitate, but he sighed in relief at the message.

 

_Fuck. I want that. I want to taste your thick cock._

 

    Damn him. Damn him straight to Hell. Madara was going to McFreaking Lose It.

 

_I bet you do. I’d make you beg for my cock, make you earn it_

 

_Mm you can try but you’ll probably get too impatient._

 

    Madara smirked again. Now that was a challenge he could go for.

 

_Save yourself the effort. I can draw out sex for as long as I want_

_I can just make you watch me get off without being able to touch yourself_

 

_Would you tie me up?_

 

 _If you want me to. I could shove that thong in your mouth too_ _  
_ _Or use it to jerk off with_

 

_If I gave it to you would you send pics?_

 

    Well shit. That was a thought.

 

_Only because you asked nicely_

 

_I’ll cum in it for you._

 

_Such a sweet boy. I can’t wait to taste it_

 

_Are you close?_

 

_Yeah_

 

_Send me a pic of your cum._

 

    How could he say no to that? Madara groaned and tipped back his head, redoubling his efforts to stroke himself to completion. His cock throbbed desperately in his hand, all too interested in their conversation and the implications that lay beyond it. He closed his eyes and thought about fucking into that thong just like he’d said he would. He prayed to God that it smelled like Tobirama, too. Just thinking about what musky aroma his body might have carried had him leaking all over his hand. The fire in his stomach blazed hotter with every stroke until he spilled with a muted cry, hips jerking into his hand. Thick, white ribbons of cum shot over his bare stomach and chest and dripped down his shaft and fingers. Breathlessly, Madara positioned his phone again and took a picture just as another spurt dribbled out of his slit. Fuck. Even he thought that was hot.

    He was able to clean himself up with a few tissues before Tobirama replied, and Madara was met with that lacy thong spread open by pale fingers, fabric painted with traces of Tobirama’s seed. Madara’s spent dick twitched with interest, but he willed it to calm down. There would be time to indulge in that when he got his hands on that thing.

 

_Looks like you really enjoyed yourself ;)_

 

_...I liked it when you called me a sweet boy._

 

    Another twitch, this one more persistent. Madara licked his lips, reading over that message a couple times just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Maybe Tobirama really was as much of a kinky bastard as Madara. He would have to dig up more details on that.

 

_Yeah? Maybe we can call next time_

_I want to hear your sweet moans too_

 

_You’re gonna make me hard again._

 

_Good, you’re going to need that stamina to keep up with me_

_Is Hashirama home?_

 

_Unfortunately._

 

    Madara bit his lip. Damn.

 

_Next time then. When should I come over to get my gift?_

 

_Hashi’s going to a business meeting Saturday night. You can stop by around 8._

 

_I’ll be there~_

 

_ <3 _

 

    Madara paused and stared at that symbol for a moment, fingers hovering over his phone. He couldn’t be sure that Tobirama hadn’t given it a second thought, but he did have to consider that the boy might have. And so what if he had? A simple heart seemed far less committal than the big three words and he supposed that was fine. After another minute of consideration, he sent one back, setting aside his phone before he could think too hard about it. Hashirama had told him not to stress over these things, and the irony of “these things” concerning Tobirama aside, he would heed that advice. With luck he wouldn’t regret it.

 

* * *

 

    Two days passed until Saturday rolled around. As it were, Hashirama had personally invited Madara to his house to “babysit” Tobirama, stating that his business meeting was a couple towns over and he would be staying at a hotel for the night. And if that weren’t the best stroke of luck Madara had ever been blessed with, he couldn’t imagine what was.

    He and Tobirama had seen each other a couple times over the course of the past two weeks. Primarily at Hashirama’s house, but they had managed to meet up for lunch once or twice during Tobirama’s lunch breaks at school. Madara’s outings had not gone unnoticed by his roommate, who made it his mission to interrogate the Uchiha every chance he got. He had already assumed that Madara was dating Tobirama, but he was denied any further details than that. Not that they had anything to hide, not really, but the less Yagura knew the better. Not to mention that Yagura and Hashirama were friends, and Madara had yet to decide when or if he wanted to tell the man that he was seeing his kid brother.

    He pulled into Hashirama’s driveway just as the latter was walking out the front door.

    “Hey, thank you for coming on such short notice,” the Senju said as Madara turned off his motorcycle and pulled off his helmet.

    “No problem. I didn’t have anything planned,” Madara said, dismounting.

    “Okay, there are leftovers in the fridge and you can make anything you want if you get hungry. We already ate supper so Tobirama shouldn’t bother you about that,” Hashirama said. “There’s a spare key to the house on the nightstand in my room. We have Netflix if you want to watch anything, and, uhh… The dogs will need to be fed in the morning, but I told Tobirama to take care of that. He’s doing homework right now so he might be in his room for a while. I should be home around noon tomorrow.”

    “Got it.” Hashirama hugged him briefly before hurrying to his car.

    “Alright, I’m off! Have fun!” he said. He paused before closing the door, however. “But not too much fun,” he added with a pointed look. “He’s not allowed to throw any parties or go to any parties. Don’t let him have any friends over, either. They’re all delinquents.”

    Madara laughed and shooed him back into his car, closing the door for him.

    “Don’t worry. I have it all under control,” he said. Hashirama gave him a thankful look through the rolled-down window, then bid farewell as he pulled out and drove off. Madara watched him turn the corner at the end of the road before he turned to walk inside.

    “That took him long enough,” came Tobirama’s voice as he emerged from the hallway. “He fusses too much.”

    “He worries about you,” Madara corrected, although there was little difference. “You should be thankful.”

    “I am. It’s just annoying.” Tobirama met him at the doorway, helping him shrug off his jacket after he toed off his shoes. “I didn’t expect him to invite you over. That worked out better than I thought it would.”

    Madara smirked, tucking his gloves into the pocket of his jacket and hanging it up. “It must be Fate,” he said. Tobirama smiled and stepped forward to place his hands on Madara’s hips, meeting him for a kiss as the Uchiha looped his arms around his neck.

    “Are you hungry?” Tobirama mumbled, barely giving Madara the chance to speak as he kissed the side of his lips.

    “No, I ate,” he said, tilting his head to drag his lips along Tobirama’s jaw.

    “Mm, good. I didn’t want to wait.” Madara lightly raised his brows at that, nosing under the boy’s ear.

    “Oh? Did you have something in mind, sweet boy?” he purred. Tobirama’s entire body shuddered against him, a tiny noise leaving his throat. Madara smirked as he watched the tips of his ears turn red.

    “I regret telling you that,” Tobirama said a little breathlessly, swallowing as his hands tightened on Madara’s hips. “I wanted to show you what I’m wearing under my clothes.” The nibble on the Senju’s ear turned into a slightly harder bite than intended and Tobirama gasped quietly.

    “Naughty boy,” Madara murmured, placing an apologetic kiss on Tobirama’s earlobe. “I bet you were thinking about having me all to yourself non-stop.”

    “You gave me a lot to think about,” Tobirama said, slipping his hands under Madara’s shirt. “Are you going to keep teasing me or are you going to do something about it?” Madara chuckled lowly and dropped his hands to Tobirama’s wrists to move his hands out from the Uchiha’s shirt.

    “Lead the way.”

    Madara lightly slapped the boy’s ass as he turned to do just that, earning a coy glance over his shoulder as he led Madara back to his room. Madara closed the door behind him as a precautionary measure. It wasn’t impossible that Hashirama might return for something he’d forgotten (far from it, really; the bloke was as forgetful as they come). Not that Madara could be certain the man wouldn’t get curious as to just where Madara had gotten off to. Or that he wouldn’t be too _distracted_. On second thought, he locked the door as well.

    He was content to lean back, cross his arms, and watch as Tobirama threw him one more glance before disrobing. His eyes wandered over every pale inch of that body as it came into view. The real treasure was revealed as Tobirama stepped out of his pants, leaving behind that same white lace that he had seen in the pictures. Thigh-high stockings held in place by an elaborate two-piece garter belt secured around his waist, flimsy, used panties concealing the bare minimum of his package to make it tantalizingly irresistible to want to reach out and rip it all off of him. Madara traced his lips with his tongue, gaze shamelessly raking over Tobirama’s body as he thought of all the different things he could do to it. Should he go for a slow and sensual appraisal while he slipped off the stockings? Or a hot and steamy hands-on approach?

    _Well. I did say I would use my teeth._

    Madara finally lifted his eyes to Tobirama’s again to find his own gaze lowered, a red flush stretching all the way down his neck. It was beyond Madara’s control to think just how adorable that was. He stepped forward with a smile, reaching out to caress the boy’s red cheek before he even considered touching any other part of him. Tobirama looked up in surprise, lips parting as if he wanted to ask what Madara was doing.

    “You’re gorgeous,” he said, thumb tracing Tobirama’s lower lip. “Those pictures didn’t do you justice.” If it were possible, Tobirama’s flush grew even deeper. Madara smiled and leaned forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss that slowly grew in intensity as he gave the boy time to get more comfortable with the situation. Once their tongues poked out, Madara allowed his hands to roam. First to his chest, fingers brushing over sensitive nipples that hardened under his touch. He teased them for a moment, enjoying the soft breath he elicited. Then he traveled lower, sliding his palms over the albino’s well-toned muscles. They fluttered beneath his hands, the quirk of Tobirama’s lips suggesting a hint of ticklishness. Madara smiled against his lips again, hands drifting around his hips and over the fabric of his lingerie until he had two handfuls of fine ass at his disposal. He didn’t hesitate to give them both a firm squeeze, making Tobirama arch his back slightly as he continued to massage the supple flesh.

    He broke their kiss in favour of guiding Tobirama to the edge of his bed, easing down to his knees as the boy sat. His lips trailed along his jaw and to his neck, dragging a line of saliva with his tongue before making his way to the protruding collarbone. He nipped along until he could dip his tongue into the jugular notch. Tobirama tipped back his head with a soft groan, supported by his elbows on the mattress. Madara moved lower still, bringing a hand back to Tobirama’s nipples to tease one while he flicked his tongue over the other. He closed his eyes at the shuddered breath that elicited, sucking gently on the hardened nub before offering the same treatment to the other.

    Tobirama’s thigh pressed against his side, riding up somewhat as Madara continued his ministrations with his lips and tongue. He smirked and hooked his hand under the albino’s knee, slinging it over his shoulder as he brought his lips to the inside of his thigh. Tobirama made a muffled noise of surprise, lifting his head again to watch Madara with hazy eyes. Madara held his gaze as he mouthed along his thigh, then bared his teeth to sink them into the soft flesh. Tobirama’s breath hitched, biting down on his lip as he fought to keep up his head. Madara’s lips stretched into a smirk as he closed his eyes, laving his tongue over the new set of teeth marks. He gradually worked his way higher, nibbling along the strap of fabric holding up the stockings until he reached the thong he remembered oh so clearly. Tobirama’s cock strained beneath the fabric and Madara imagined it must have been quite painful. However, he did nothing to alleviate that pain, ghosting his lips over the prominent tent and bypassing it completely. Tobirama whined, an indignant huff leaving his lips.

    “Do you ever stop being such a cock tease?” he asked airily. Madara chuckled, placing a kiss on the navel that was visible between the two pieces of the garter belt.

    “That depends. Are you ready to start begging yet?” He flicked up his eyes to Tobirama’s again, teeth catching on white lace. Tobirama set his jaw.

    “Not a chance.”

    “Then I’m not done being a cock tease.”

    And to prove his point, Madara turned his head to latch his teeth onto the hook holding up the stocking on the leg balanced on his shoulder. He released it with deft ease, immediately snatching the top of the stocking afterward. He lowered the leg from his shoulder in order to drag the fabric down slowly, nosing down the length of the boy’s leg. Once it was bunched around his ankle, Madara moved to the tip of his foot, nibbling briefly at his toe before tugging off the stocking entirely. Tobirama watched him all the while, chest rising and falling with gradually quickening breaths as Madara performed the same removal on his other leg. He was pleasantly surprised by the smooth skin he found beneath; he had to wonder if Tobirama had only bothered shaving in preparation for tonight or if it were a regular habit of his. With the lack of any missed patches, he assumed the latter.

    Placing his hands on Tobirama’s legs, he slid them back up to his hips, slipping beneath the bottom half of the garter belt to tease the rim of the thong below. He dipped his head back in between the boy’s thighs, this time not hesitating to fit his mouth directly over the covered bulge. A strangled noise escaped Tobirama, hips jerking when Madara brought his tongue into play and laved a generous amount of saliva over the damp area concealing the head of his cock. Madara secured his grip on Tobirama’s hips, pinning them to the mattress as he sucked on the head through the fabric, feeling the length pulse against his lips. Tobirama’s muscles strained beneath his hands, but the Uchiha kept them firmly in place, refusing the boy to do whatever he wanted.

    He had not, however, anticipated two hands fisting themselves in his hair and yanking him up to meet a rough, sloppy kiss. He made a noise in the back of his throat, half in surprise and half in the unexpected pleasure of his hair being pulled. Before he could react, Tobirama flipped them onto the bed, a knee between Madara’s legs and fingers tugging at his scalp. Madara moaned, a surprised flutter of thrill rippling up his spine as Tobirama dragged his knee against his groin, rubbing against his neglected erection.

    “You were taking too long,” Tobirama murmured by way of explanation, lips finding their way to Madara’s neck to deliver a long, hard suck.

    In spite of all his efforts thus far, Madara felt himself melting into the touch. Tobirama’s fingers released his hair in favour of teasing the nape of his neck, drawing out a shuddered breath as he sucked hickey after hickey onto his skin. As much as he wanted to bend Tobirama over the nearest available surface and fuck him face-first into oblivion, he couldn’t deny that this sudden dominant streak was hot as hell, as evidenced by the excessive pre-cum staining the inside of his pants.

    (He had forgone underwear today. Sue him.)

    However, it wasn’t in his nature to submit so easily, or at all for the vast majority of the time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken dick up his ass and he wasn’t about to let this pompous fuck try to refresh his memory. With a growl he grabbed a fistful of white hair, his other hand snaking down to palm roughly at the boy’s ass and yank him closer. He swallowed Tobirama’s groan as he rolled them and pinned him down near the head of the mattress, moulding their lips together with bruising force. His fingers dug into Tobirama’s hips, dragging them against his own and eliciting mutual groans of pleasure.

    “Fuck,” Tobirama breathed once Madara relinquished his lips in favour of mirroring the hickeys on his own skin with bite marks on Tobirama’s.

    “That’s the idea,” Madara agreed with a smirk. Looping his arm under the small of Tobirama’s back, he shifted them farther onto the bed so that the boy could rest against the pillows. Then he pulled back to kneel between the other’s legs, reaching back to peel off his shirt and toss it blindly onto the floor somewhere. He extended his hand to flatten his palm over Tobirama’s bare chest, feeling his laboured breaths and excited heartbeat just below the skin. “Are you a virgin?” he asked, making sure to keep any hint of mocking out of his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was make fun of Tobirama’s sexual experience when they were on the verge of creating their own.

    Tobirama glanced away, pursing his lips. “I’ve fooled around a little, but I’ve never actually done it,” he admitted. Madara moved up his hand to cup the boy’s face, coaxing him to look at the Uchiha again.

    “Is this something you want to do with me right now?” he asked quietly, stroking his thumb over Tobirama’s cheekbone.

    “Yes,” the Senju answered immediately. “God, yes.” But then he bit his lip, eyebrows knitting together slightly. “But please don’t treat me like some fragile fucking flower. I can handle it, so just...don’t hold back.” Madara’s gentle smile turned into a smirk as he leaned down to kiss Tobirama briefly.

    “Believe me, you’ll want me to hold back just this once,” he murmured against the other’s lips. “The things I’d like to do to you would make the Devil blush.” The spark of desire in Tobirama’s eyes filled Madara with hope that his vast variety of sexual interests would not go to waste on Tobirama. Alas, all in due time. Madara pecked his lips again. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you become _very_ familiar with those things. But this time, let me worship you.”

    And oh, did he worship Tobirama. He traced every inch of that pale skin with reverent lips, whispering sweet nothings into his flesh while his hands seared their touch into Tobirama’s very soul. He had the boy biting back barely suppressed whimpers of his name before he had even removed that damning thong, and when he did it made things all the better. Tobirama’s cock was impressive; not as big as Madara’s, but more girthy, his balls hanging heavily beneath it. Madara was delighted to find Tobirama had taken to shaving here, too. While he didn’t care to tackle his own leg hair, he appreciated a well-groomed cock.

    After locating a bottle of lube in the drawer of Tobirama’s bedside table ( _“For a virgin, you’re certainly prepared,” “Shove it, Uchiha,” “I plan to~”_ ), he slicked up three of his fingers. He had one of Tobirama’s legs hooked over his shoulder again, the other spread obediently with a surprising amount of flexibility. Although, Madara supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Tobirama had to have developed a degree of flexibility to take on dancing as he had claimed. Madara would have to put that particular skill to the test sometime.

    Dragging his finger along the crease of Tobirama’s ass, Madara smirked at the shudder of anticipation. He circled that finger around the boy’s entrance before delving inside. Tobirama immediately clenched around him, breath stuttering as Madara pressed farther inside.

    “Relax,” the Uchiha coaxed. “It will feel better if you do.”

    “Easier said than done,” Tobirama groaned, tipping back his head. Madara chuckled lowly and decided to give him a helping hand (or mouth, rather). Leaning down, he licked up the length of Tobirama’s cock, startling a gasp out of the boy as his back arched. Madara smirked and took the head past his lips, sucking gently and tasting pre-cum on his tongue. Tobirama’s walls fluttered around his finger, unsure of how to react to the two stimuli. Madara slowly took more and more of Tobirama’s length into his mouth, burying his finger deeper into the albino’s ass as he did. He bottomed out at his knuckle as the head of Tobirama’s cock hit the back of his throat, and he withdrew on both ends simultaneously. He developed a steady rhythm, relishing the moans from above as he worked open Tobirama slowly but surely.

    He added a second finger once the boy had completely relaxed around him, repeating the process until he could slide in the third with little resistance. He withdrew once Tobirama’s squirming and moaning signaled a rapidly approaching climax. Tobirama whined at the loss, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Madara simply smirked and brushed his fingers over the Senju’s balls and along his length before retracting them completely.

    “Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning down to tease Tobirama’s ear. “I have something much better for you, sweet boy.” Tobirama let out a breathy moan, and Madara chuckled as he finally relieved himself of his pants. The friction of the constraint had kept him nicely hard through the preparation. He reached for the bottle of lube again, squeezing a generous amount onto his hand to spread over his cock. He hissed quietly at the sensation, positioning his hips between Tobirama’s shaking legs.

    Steadying the base of his cock with one hand, he reached out with the other to interlace his fingers with Tobirama’s by the boy’s head. Tobirama held his gaze as Madara rubbed his tip against the other’s puckered entrance, then slowly, slowly slid inside. It was maddening not to simply give in to his primal instincts and pound away at Tobirama until neither of them knew their own names, but he knew gentleness was important during this time. His own first time had not been nearly as pleasant and he wanted to make sure Tobirama’s only memories of this were pleasurable.

    They both let out their breath as Madara bottomed out inside of Tobirama. His dick twitched inside the tight heat as Tobirama’s muscles fought to accommodate the intrusion. Looking down at the boy, Madara saw his mouth hanging open as he gasped in air, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Madara leaned down to lick it up, then to claim Tobirama’s lips. He slowly eased out as his tongue dove into the other’s mouth, right hand clasping a pale hip as he gradually worked up a rhythm. Tobirama kissed him back fiercely, unrelenting even as he was nearly bent in half by the curve of Madara’s body. His thrusts picked up in speed, and soon the room was filled with sounds of harsh breaths and sweaty skin slapping against skin. Tobirama’s arm curled around Madara’s shoulders, holding him close as the Uchiha drove into his ass with growing ferocity.

    A well-aimed thrust had Tobirama arching up with a sharp cry, eyes flying open wide. Madara paused for just a moment before his lips stretched into a smirk, and all his efforts became focused on finding that spot and abusing it over and over again. Tobirama was left a shuddering mess beneath him, drool escaping his lips while his cock leaked all over the garter belt that still clung to his waist. Madara kissed him again, lapping into his slack mouth as he relished the familiar burn in his thighs. Tobirama wouldn’t last much longer.

    As if on cue, Tobirama’s walls clenched around Madara’s cock, drawing out a low moan as his thrusts became rough and less coordinated. Tobirama’s thighs squeezed his hips, incoherent pleas spilling from his lips as the arm around Madara’s neck moved to clutch at his hair. Madara turned to press his forehead into the pillow beside Tobirama’s head, all of the boy’s noises going straight to his dick.

    “Ma-Madar- _aaah—!_ Madara, Mmm-aaah…” Tobirama poured out a continuous, broken chant of his name, and being a man of mercy, Madara released the Senju’s hip to wrap his fingers around his thick cock instead. Tobirama writhed, gasping out as Madara pumped him in time with his thrusts.

    “Come for me, Tobirama,” he growled into the albino’s ear. “Come for me, my sweet boy.”

    That was all it took to unravel Tobirama. His back arched off the bed as his cock spasmed in Madara’s hand before shooting its load all over Tobirama’s stomach and chest. The feeling of the sticky seed dribbling down his fingers did Madara in. He grunted as he buried himself as deeply into Tobirama as he could, then spilled inside him with a shaky groan. He rocked his hips through his orgasm, painting Tobirama’s walls with several spurts of his cum. Tobirama’s cock twitched in his hand, releasing one more gush of cum with a feeble sob from the boy.

    The two stayed like that for a few minutes, wordlessly regaining their breath. Madara’s hair draped over his shoulder, creating the semblance of privacy even in the otherwise empty room. It was a moment spared only for the two of them, a pocket in time to capture this image of lust and love. And really, who was Madara kidding? To say that he felt anything less than pure, unadulterated adoration for this boy was not only a lie, but an insult to what they had just shared with each other. Madara would have been a fool to think that things would have escalated this quickly otherwise.

    More or less back in his right mind, Madara pulled out his softening dick, earning a quiet whine from Tobirama. He leaned up with a tired smile, kissing Tobirama’s cheek and then his swollen lips.

    “Was it everything you’ve ever dreamed of?” he asked, smoothing back the boy’s hair with the hand that had previously had a death grip on his own. Tobirama snorted weakly.

    “M’pretty sure you just put all my dreams to shame,” he said, leaning into Madara’s touch. “You better not be bluffing about making the Devil blush. I expect great things from you.” Madara chuckled.

    “I’ll try not to disappoint~” He kissed Tobirama again, then peeled his sweaty self off the poor boy to give him breathing room as he stood. “I’ll start a shower,” he offered, stretching his arms above his head.

    “I’ll be there in a sec,” Tobirama said, unmoving from the bed. Madara snickered and left for the bathroom.

    He was able to warm the water and rinse off most of the bodily fluids before Tobirama joined him, sliding open the glass door and slipping in to nudge him out from under the spray of water. Madara gave him a teasing glare, which was met with a raised brow and a smirk. Madara helped him rinse off, then proceeded to remove the cum in Tobirama’s ass. If not for having spent themselves so thoroughly, the way Madara dug his fingers into Tobirama likely would have spurred them on for another session then and there. They were able to control themselves for the time being, however, due in part to Tobirama’s soreness evident in the way he winced despite the occasional noise. Madara apologized by washing his hair for him, denying a return of the favour simply because he did not wish to put Tobirama through that hassle. Tobirama agreed and thanked him once he saw the sheer amount of effort that went into grooming Madara’s hair.

    Afterward they lounged on the futon in the living room, Tobirama’s head in Madara’s lap while they watched an episode of _Game of Thrones_. Madara held a beer while Tobirama nursed a hot cup of chamomile tea (of his own volition, surprisingly; he said it would help the soreness). Madara carded his fingers idly through the other’s hair, still somewhat damp from their shower, but pleasant to the touch nonetheless.

    “What do you think Hashirama will say?” Tobirama asked when the credits rolled on the screen. He turned in Madara’s lap to look up at him. Madara raised a brow.

    “He’ll say, ‘How dare you defile my little brother!’ and ‘Did you even use protection?’ and blah, blah blah, blah blah,” he drawled. Tobirama chuckled and reached up to take Madara’s hand in both of his.

    “I hope you know you’re clean. If I get Chlamydia after my first time having sex, I might just have to castrate you,” the Senju said. Madara raised both brows at that.

    “Your brother might beat you to it,” he said, lightly tweaking Tobirama’s cheek with his free hand. “I go in for a checkup every year, but I haven’t had sex in a while.” Tobirama’s eyebrows drew in at that.

    “Why not? I know it’s not because you couldn’t find someone willing,” he said, squeezing Madara’s hand. The elder sighed.

    “No, it’s not that,” he said. “I just haven’t had the desire. I usually don’t unless I’m already close to someone.”

    “That’s a thing, right?” Tobirama asked. “Demisexual, or something.” Madara nodded.

    “I’ve thought that, too. It’s just easier to call myself ‘gay’.” He smiled and lifted his hands from Tobirama to stretch upward and yawn. Just as he was about to suggest that they sleep, fingers wriggled along his ribs, making him convulse and double over with a startled laugh.

    “Sorry, you were wide open,” Tobirama said, unrelenting. Madara narrowed his eyes even as he smirked.

    “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

    “Not when it comes to you.”

    Implications aside, the ensuing tickle war was of catastrophic intensity, and the two of them spent the rest of the night frantically searching for a store that would sell them a ceramic lamp at such a late hour.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -drum roll- and here's the epilogue ~ !! most of it is explaining the incident involving izuna. i think i'm definitely gonna write a few more works in this verse involving other characters and past events and whatnot. i've not fleshed out the entire story behind the plot myself, so it'll be fun to explore it some more ^^
> 
> i hope you've all enjoyed the story thus far !! the sneak peek/behind the scenes chapter will be uploaded soon ~ i have a bunch of little snippets outlined already ^^

“Are you sure you have everything?” Hashirama asked, wringing his hands as he followed Tobirama out to the moving truck. After depositing the last box, Tobirama turned to smile at his brother.

“I’m sure. I’m not as forgetful as you are,” he said. Tears welled up in Hashirama’s eyes for the  _ n _ th time that day (not to mention the past week) and he threw his arms around Tobirama in a death grip.

“Do you have to move so far away? What if I don’t ever get to see you? What if something happens and you need my help but it’ll take me forever to get there? What if—”

“Hashirama!” Tobirama all but whined, urging his brother to let go so he could take the man by the shoulders. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I’ll make sure to visit as much as I can. Or until Mito gets pissed off.”

“Not to worry,” came the smooth voice of the aforementioned woman. She appeared from around the truck, dusting off her hands. “I find your company rather pleasant. I must say it will be a challenge to keep this man in line without you,” she said, looping her arm through Hashirama’s. The elder Senju pouted.

“I’m not that much trouble, am I?” he asked; Mito rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, no sense of self-worth at all. What am I going to do with you?”

Tobirama chuckled at the two of them, then jumped slightly as he felt an arm loop around his waist.

“Everything’s packed,” Madara said. “We should head out soon. I want to get there before it gets dark.”

Hashirama dissolved into another blubbering mess as he clung to Madara as well. It took both Tobirama and Mito to pry him off this time.

“Call us when you get there!” he called after the two as they made way for Tobirama’s car. Madara’s motorcycle was strapped onto a trailer hooked onto the back. “Wear your seatbelts! Take turns driving! Remember to eat and take bathroom breaks!”

Tobirama promptly shut the door on his brother’s rambling, sighing as Madara climbed in on the passenger’s side. They gave each other mutually exasperated looks as they waited for the moving truck to pull out ahead of them and then began to back out themselves. Hashirama and Mito waved (one more enthusiastically than the other) and Yuina (the grey husky that had become Tobirama’s dog at one point or another) barked at them from the back of the car in lieu of the two men.

“I pity that poor woman,” Madara said, relaxing back in his seat and minding his tied-up hair (he had finally found a brand of hair ties that could withstand the gorgeous mess attached to Madara’s head).

“She’s put up with him for two years. I think she can handle herself,” Tobirama said with a smile.

Two years. It had been two years since Madara and Tobirama reunited. It almost felt surreal knowing that the two of them had been able to set aside the differences of their past selves in order to develop this beautiful relationship they shared. Before, Tobirama wouldn’t have thought it possible. Seven years ago, he wouldn’t have believed that Madara was capable of loving at all. Yet here they were, on their way to Elyria, Ohio, to move into a quaint little house waiting for them.

Mito had been the one to make that possible.  _ “Consider it a gift of gratitude for watching over Hashirama all this time. The gods only know where he would have ended up otherwise.” _ The floorplan was far wider than what was strictly necessary for two people, but she had insisted and the both of them knew better than to argue with her. Her mother had been kind enough to pull some strings in the real estate agency that owned the property, and with that kind of deal they would have been stupid to refuse.

Tobirama was twenty now, Madara twenty-five, and they had decided to move in together once Madara had finished college. He had spent the last seven years earning a PhD in criminal justice and had been offered a position by Elyria's community college to instruct as a professor while also contributing to affiliated criminal justice research programmes. Tobirama would also be attending that college enrolled in the associate of arts degree programme, wherein his major would be in engineering technologies while his minor would be in dance.

He had promised to find a job shortly after getting settled in since Madara had agreed to buy a car of his own due to noise ordinance policies (the neighbourhood they would be living in was smaller than those in Philadelphia, so more people were prone to complaint). Madara allowed him to be his intern (paid, although it was more like an allowance seeing as most of the money would be going to the same place anyway) until he had enough experience for a real job, which he was grateful for. He doubted many companies would hold being a junior instructor at a summer dance camp in high esteem. He blamed Hashirama for spoiling him and not making him get a job sooner.

It was a seven-hour drive from Philadelphia to Elyria, most of which was spent blaring trashy music and singing along at the tops of their voices, and when their voices got too hoarse to continue, they simply talked about nothing in particular until Madara decided to take a nap. He had been sleeping more regularly these days, almost excessively, but Tobirama wasn’t about to complain. It was better than watching the poor bastard drag himself through two or more days at a time on little to no sleep. Taking a nap now would allow him to be well-rested in a couple hours when they agreed to switch seats, anyway.

Getting to see such a peaceful expression on Madara wasn’t a bad bonus, either.

 

By the time they arrived at the house, Madara had to shake Tobirama awake. He blinked open bleary eyes and yawned, looking around to be met with a gentle smile on Madara’s face.

“We’re here,” he said quietly, leaning in to peck Tobirama’s forehead. The albino smiled, shrugging off his seatbelt as he glanced out the window to see the movers already hard at work unloading everything. Most of the larger pieces of furniture had been gifts from Hashirama, who had been trying to lessen his own possessions in preparation of moving in to a place with Mito (the house in the pictures he had showed Tobirama was huge, and Tobirama couldn’t help but preemptively dread the sheer number of dogs his brother would try to fit in there).

Speaking of dogs, Yuina barked excitedly from the back seat, fumbling back and forth from one door to the other as she waited to get out. Tobirama waved for Madara to go on ahead as he reached back to clasp the leash onto Yuina’s collar.

“Settle down, girl,” he coaxed, petting her head. He maneuvered around until he could open the back door and let the husky jump down, fluffy tail wagging eagerly as she strained against the leash and sniffed the air. Tobirama chuckled, walking her around the car to find Madara easing down his motorcycle.

“I’m gonna drive this into the spare garage,” he said. “We can put Yuina in there afterward while we move everything in.” Tobirama nodded, standing aside as Madara revved his motorcycle to life and drove down the length of the property to reach the separate garage in the back. The built-in garage was capable of holding three cars, which would come in handy should Hashirama and Mito come to visit, although both Tobirama and Madara agreed that it seemed a little excessive. The entirety of the house was excessive, but that was besides the point.

Once they were able to safely detain Yuina, they both returned to help the movers. Since they had left at nine, they had been able to get there by four, which left plenty of time to move things in while it was still daylight. The interior of the house seemed even larger than in the pictures, but Tobirama supposed that was because it was lacking in most of the furniture that it had been pictured with. Regardless, walking through the rooms lifted his heart in the best of ways. It solidified the reality that he was moving in with Madara, and that this was the next stage of their relationship.

Having moved in all the big pieces, Tobirama wandered out back to find a wide wrap-around deck that offered a lovely view of the forest to the back of the house. He leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply. The air held a fresher note here than what he was used to and he already loved it. He imagined that Hashirama would have loved this place even more, what with all the trees and the wide windows for house plants. He could just picture that fool of a man running through the forest with a doofy grin on his face. He could picture it so vividly, in fact, that being struck with its absence almost startled him. He had been adamantly avoiding the fact that this would be the first time he lived away from his brother, and so far away at that, but now he had nowhere to run from the realization and he shook slightly as it settled in.

A pair of arms wound around his waist then, making him jump slightly. Madara rested his chin on Tobirama’s shoulder, a serene look on his face.

“I have a good feeling about this place,” he said, leaning his head against Tobirama’s. The latter hummed.

“It’s nice here,” he said. His choice of wording seemed to catch Madara’s attention, and the man tilted his head to look at him.

“But?” he asked. Tobirama pursed his lip, allowing a hint of his anxiety to slip through.

“It’s nothing, I just… It’s weird being away from Hashirama,” he confessed. “We’ve always been so close. He’s been more than a brother to me ever since Mom and Dad died.” Madara placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

“I know what you mean, a little,” he said. “When it was just me and Izuna… Uncle Indra took us in for a while, but he wasn’t the best person to take care of children. I learned how to pick up the slack, and when Izuna died… It was more than just losing a brother. I guess that’s why Hashirama worries about you so much.”

Tobirama nodded silently. It had gotten easier for Madara to talk about Izuna as they had talked about the incident as a whole. Tobirama was able to tell him exactly what happened and fill in some of the blanks that Madara didn’t know about. As it turned out, Orochimaru was involved, but they had changed their appearance so much that it was no wonder Tobirama hadn’t recognized them that night at the club. If he had… Tobirama didn’t want to think about what he would have done. Nor what Madara would have done had he known just what Orochimaru’s history was like.

Orochimaru had taken more of an interest in the Uchiha family than Madara had initially thought. They had sought after Izuna in ways that an eighteen year old had no right to seek after a thirteen year old. Tobirama had been out practicing his break dancing on the basketball court of a local park when he had seen Izuna being chased by some older kids (who had been some of the more questionable members of Madara’s gang, including Orochimaru). Tobirama had followed them in secret until they cornered Izuna under a small bridge. He overheard them saying that Izuna had had no business snooping around their “gang meeting”, and that he was going to pay for what he’d heard. Tobirama had jumped in after the first punch was thrown, taking the second one to his jaw, and the third, and the fourth. Being as young as he was, he didn’t stand a chance against all five of them (Orochimaru, Hidan, Mizuki, Zabuza, and Kabuto), but he had provided enough of a distraction for Izuna to slip away. Tobirama fell unconscious after a few more brutal blows.

He awoke sometime later to find himself being dragged by his hair along hard, wet pavement. He writhed, half-conscious, in pain until he was thrown against a concrete barrier. He saw Izuna being forced on top of it, bloody and bruised like Tobirama, and some of his clothes were torn. The older boys were saying things to Izuna that Tobirama couldn’t hear, but what he could hear was the faint rush of water nearby. Moving sluggishly, he was able to pull himself up with the barrier to find a sharp drop off on the other side, a broad river waiting below. The Mississippi River.

Tobirama remembered wondering briefly why there hadn’t been any cars passing over that bridge to see them, but later recalled that that bridge had been closed off for construction. There had been no one around to see them at that time of night. They had been all alone.

Someone pushed Izuna. Tobirama moved without thinking. He remembered hanging onto the sobbing boy while clinging to the top of the barrier himself, vision blurred by his own frightful tears. Four of the five pursuers loomed over them, Orochimaru nowhere in sight, and then he saw the lights of cop cars. The four faceless silhouettes panicked. Tobirama remembered movement, but his adrenalized frenzy had blocked out most of the details. He was fairly certain he had blacked out again at some point. All he remembered thereafter was being in a hospital bed while Hashirama told him that Izuna had fallen into the river. Madara had barged in then, all tears and fury, barely held back by nurses and security.

_ “You bastard! I’ll fucking kill you! I swear I’ll fucking kill you!” _

Tobirama winced at the memory. Madara had disappeared for five years after that, until their fated reunion in Philadelphia.

Apparently the ones involved with the incident had told Madara that Tobirama was at fault for Izuna’s death, claiming that he had chased the boy to the bridge and shoved him off himself. Police reports proved otherwise, but they lacked the evidence to pin the blame on anyone in particular. Tobirama’s memory had been practically nonexistent at the time, and he only remembered as much as he did after some time had passed. There were still plenty of holes that even he couldn’t fill in.

“Tobirama?” Madara’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he glanced down to see the man blinking up at him. Tobirama offered an easy smile, resting his hands on the arms still wrapped around him.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.” Turning back to give the forest one more look of longing, he turned to walk back into the house, Madara wobbling behind him as he refused to let go.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” the Uchiha said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tobirama smiled softly, pausing in the middle of the house to relax in Madara’s arms.

“I know.”

 

_ fin. _


	8. Sneak Peeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here iT IS  
> i'm so sorry this took so long. i've actually had it done for a couple days now i was just conflicted on whether or not i wanted to add more  
> but enJOY

**Chapter 3 - Hashirama’s Pictures**

 

The minute he got the chance, Hashirama called to attention everyone in his first block class to gather around as he pulled up the pictures of Madara and Tobirama he had taken on his phone. It was still relatively early and Madara usually took his time getting to class since he lived on campus, so Hashirama had plenty of time to gush and embarrass his baby brother and best friend without the threat of a slow and painful death.

Or so he thought.

Minutes before the tardy bell rang (a/n: are tardy bells even a thing in college i'm), Hashirama’s fellow classmates were still huddled around his desk, deeply engrossed in the gossip he had single-handedly incited. He was rather proud of himself, too. It served Madara right for allowing his baby brother to be such a delinquent. It wasn’t until a dark shadow forced the crowd to part that he realized he maybe should have put more effort into being discreet about his payback.

Madara loomed over his desk, malicious intent rolling off of him in nigh visible waves. Hashirama shrank back in his seat, clutching his phone to his chest.

“Delete. Them. Now,” Madara growled with murderous emphasis. Hashirama remained frozen for a moment before he bolted out of his chair, making a run for it. “Get back here!” Fat chance. Hashirama leapt over a couple desks, making a beeline for the door. Madara was hot in pursuit, shouting various profanities that Hashirama would chastise him for if he weren’t too busy running for his life.

As it were, neither of them were able to escape a mutual doom as the professor stepped through the door at that moment. Hashirama scrambled to try to stop, but even if he had been able to, Madara rammed into him from behind, knocking them both forward and into the poor, poor professor. Hashirama silently pledged to do everything in his capability to kiss ass, if he were even permitted to remain the class.

 

Their punishment was a far cry from expulsion. They were both sentenced to clapping erasers after school (leave it to their luck to get in trouble in the one classroom that still used a chalk board). Madara made ample use of their time together by lavishing Hashirama with a variety of colourful threats, to which Hashirama replied with a wide grin and a reminder of just why he had those pictures in the first place. Madara quieted down after that, accusing Hashirama of filthy blackmail.

Hashirama didn’t deny it.

 

**Chapter 3 - Madara’s Shower**

 

The Senju brothers were not idle while Madara showered in their home. Hashirama dug out a suitable blanket and a couple pillows from the hallway closet, preparing to bring them out to the futon. Tobirama appeared at the other end of the hallway, heading toward his room. Both brothers stopped in their tracks, however, as a rather questionable sound was emitted from the bathroom.

Hashirama’s and Tobirama’s eyes met, the former’s face draining of all colour before regaining it in a vicious red. Tobirama smirked and fisted his hand to make a jerking-off motion, making that jizz-in-my-pants expression. Hashirama gaped and rushed past the bathroom to half-tackle his brother away from it, a scandalized expression on his face. Tobirama just laughed, and Hashirama threw a glance back down the hallway. He just hoped Madara would clean any mess he left behind.

 

**Chapter 3 - The Morning After**

 

The next day, after Madara and the Senju brothers had eaten breakfast, Tobirama left the house to catch the approaching bus. Madara followed him out, tugging on his gloves and bidding him a brief farewell as he made for his bike. Tobirama just waved as he got on his bus, pausing for half of a second as the entirety of the vehicle’s passengers were either staring at him or through the windows at Madara. Glancing around warily, Tobirama made his way to the back of the bus, taking the empty seat he usually sat in.

Ino Yamanaka and Sakura Haruno immediately turned around in their shared seat to look at him. Tobirama blanched under their scrutiny.

“ _ What? _ ” he finally asked when it looked like they weren’t about to explain.

“Who’s that guy?” Ino asked, gesturing out the back window as the bus pulled away from his house. Tobirama glanced back to see Madara taking off in the other direction. He thought for a moment, then shrugged, turning back.

“What’s it to you?” he asked.

“Is he your boyfriend or your brother’s?” Sakura asked, keeping her voice low unlike her blonde companion.

“Are you kidding? That guy looked way too cool for a nerd like Tobi,” Ino said with a roll of her eyes. Tobirama gaped.

“Hey—”

“But Hashirama is way too... _ much _ , you know?” Sakura countered. “He doesn’t seem like the type to go for such a badass. But I think he’s probably gay.”

“Definitely,” Ino agreed. “But there’s no way either of them are  _ just friends _ with a hunk like that. What’s his name?” Tobirama rolled his eyes.

“None of your business.”

“Come oooon,” they pleaded in unison. Tobirama made a face, leaning back in his seat.

“His name is Madara Uchiha,” said a voice from across the aisle. All three turned to look at the owner: a young man with long hair, which often got him mistaken for a girl. Tobirama recognized him as Haku, having shared a few classes with him in the past.

“How do you know?” Sakura asked, leaning around Ino.

“What else do you know about him?” Ino urged, leaning forward. Haku glanced up and smiled softly.

“He’s...a friend of a friend, I guess you could say,” he said. He claimed not to know much more than that, disappointing the two gossip leeches. Tobirama blinked at the boy from his seat, wondering just what Haku’s connection to Madara was.

 

**Chapter 4 - The Basketball Game**

 

Since his roommate was such a terrible, awful, horrible person who couldn’t keep one (1) measly promise to go to one (1) basketball game because he was too busy boning other guys, Yagura humbly took it upon himself to be Saburo’s moral support at the game because he, unlike his terrible, awful, horrible roommate, was an amazing, awesome, wonderful person who had no trouble accompanying a hot friend to his basketball game to watch said hot friend get sweaty and jump around with a bunch of other hot guys while they juggled a big ball with a whole other team of hot guys.

Yagura knew nothing about basketball, but he decided he liked it.

The blond sat in the front row of the upper section of the gymnasium, cheering on his school’s team (but mainly Saburo) long after they had fallen behind in the scores. Never let it be said that Yagura was not supportive. He pointedly ignored the dirty looks he received for his cheers which bordered on incoherent screeches as he waved around a colourful, last-minute sign that he had made all by himself. He was no artist, but he was pretty proud of it. He was at least able to stay inside the lines.

The seconds were counting down now, and the audience was tense. The university’s team had been able to climb back up to match the other team’s score, but the other team was currently wiping the floor with their asses for that deciding point. Saburo was lagging behind the rest of his team, sweat dripping off his chin and chest heaving. Despite how utterly sexy he looked, Yagura was not about to let all his effort go to waste.

Standing from his seat, Yagura threw down his sign and cupped his hands around his mouth.

_ “Go, Saburo! Drag their asses through the mud! Show them Philly Uni’s Star Athlete!” _

He gripped the railing in front of him then, teeth bared in a wide grin as every player on the court looked up at him. His eyes were focused purely on Saburo, wide in their intensity and shining with plucky ferocity. The game picked up again without missing a beat, but Saburo stared at him a moment longer as his gaping lips stretched into a wide smile to match Yagura’s. He threw the blond a thumbs-up as he dove back into the game, invigorated by Yagura’s flagrant disregard for common decency.

Saburo was the one to score the winning point. Yagura threw both hands in the air and all but  _ screamed _ Saburo’s name, hopping up and down as the rest of the crowd jumped up and cheered.

_ That ass is mine tonight _ , Yagura thought victoriously. In reality, it was the other way around, but who cared about the details?

 

**Chapter 4 - Orochimaru’s Debut**

 

After parting ways with Madara and Tobirama, Orochimaru slinked back into the club crowd, swaying his way through the sweaty masses. He needed another drink. The bartender was glad to supply him free of charge, due to Orochimaru’s unwavering dependability in delivering the man’s drugs in a timely manner and without any dirty tricks.

Slipping onto a stool at the bar, he ordered a Sex on the Beach cocktail, resting his chin on his palm as he waited. His eyes scanned the crowd, both in search and on the look-out. The last thing he needed was—

“ _ Orochimaru _ ,” purred a sultry, gravely voice from behind. Orochimaru didn’t jump, barely showed any sign of acknowledgement at all save for his lengthy sigh. The owner of the voice claimed the chair to his right, placing himself outside of Orochimaru’s vision. “I thought I would find you here. A sly fox like you is bound to—”

“Jiraiya,” Orochimaru said, cutting off the other as he straightened his posture and turned to regard the man fully. “Why are you here?” he asked, expression betraying his less-than-joyous response to finding his fuckbuddy in the same club as he.

Jiraiya leaned back against the bar on his elbows, offering a carefree grin. “What? I’m not allowed to enjoy myself at a decent club once in a while?” he asked. Orochimaru blinked slowly.

“The  _ only _ kind of club you enjoy is the kind with half-naked women molesting a pole.” He turned back to the bartender when his drink was handed to him, picking it up to suck on the straw.

“That’s not true,” Jiraiya defended. “I like the ones with men, too.” Orochimaru rolled his eyes.

“Of course. How could I have forgotten?” He didn’t look away from his drink, praying to whatever unholy deity that would have mercy on him to be left alone.

“You know, you wouldn’t look half-bad on one of those poles yourself,” Jiraiya persisted, turning to lean on only one arm as he inched closer to Orochimaru. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

Orochimaru glanced over at the man finally, looking him up and down as if in consideration. Then he caught himself and turned away. “Not happening.” Jiraiya made a noise of complaint.

“Not even if I promised to let you give me a lap dance?” he asked, tone pleading. Orochimaru pointedly focused on his drink, avidly sucking down its contents. “Not even if I tied you up with that skimpy little black number I know you’re wearing?”

Orochimaru choked, briefly drawing the attention of the bartender, but he waved him off. He coughed into his elbow as he glanced back at Jiraiya, genuinely shocked. “How do you know about that?” he demanded.

Jiraiya grinned, reaching out to curl a finger under Orochimaru’s chin once he had recovered. “Because I  _ know _ you, Orochimaru. And I know you don’t close your bedroom window when you change.” The barest hint of red tinted Orochimaru’s cheeks. So the bastard had caught on to that after all, had he?

“And just what do you plan to do about it?” he challenged. Jiraiya hummed, sliding off his stool and gently tugging Orochimaru to stand as well as he brought their bodies flush together.

“I think I’ll start by telling you just how sexy you’d look without all those clothes,” he said, hand trailing down the column of Orochimaru’s neck. “And then I’ll ask you to dance with me so I can show you all the things you want me to do to you.” His hand snaked around Orochimaru’s waist then, pulling their hips together. Orochimaru licked his lips.

“You make a tempting offer,” he said, eyes flicking briefly to Jiraiya’s lips. The man chuckled.

“So how about it? Do you wanna be my pretty lady for tonight?” Orochimaru smirked.

“I think that can be arranged.”

 

**Chapter 4 - Hashirama’s Dogs (flashback)**

 

Hashirama counted each of the dogs as he attached leashes to all of their collars. Ensuring that all ten were present, he smiled and gathered the handles in his hands, turning to lead his little pack out of his backyard.

“Try not to let them run off with you,” Tobirama called from his bedroom window. Hashirama smiled up at him.

“Don’t worry! They’re all very obediENT—”

He was cut off as two of the larger ones took off after a passing car, inciting the rest of them to follow after. Tobirama shook his head as he watched Hashirama get dragged helplessly along.

“Wait wait wait! You guys can’t just go chasing after cars!” Hashirama pleaded, tugging on the leashes to little avail. They managed to drag him halfway down the next block before they finally relented their pursuit. Hashirama breathed a sigh of relief, just doing his best to keep them all on the sidewalk and off the street.

“You look like you’ve got your hands full,” came a voice from a house they were passing. Hashirama looked up to see a cute redhead sitting on the bench swing of her porch, fan in hand. He smiled sheepishly, jerking slightly with a tug from one of the dogs.

“They need to be walked somehow,” he said, jerking forward again. The girl smiled back at him and stood, green sundress flowing in the light breeze as she deposited her fan on the bench and descended the steps of her porch.

“Let me help you,” she offered as she approached. “I’m rather good with dogs. Are they all yours?” Hashirama floundered, trying to tell her it was really okay, but she took five of the ten leashes from him without paying any mind to his protests.

“I—uhh, n-no, they’re not,” he said, chuckling a little as they started walking together. “They’re all strays I’ve found. I couldn’t bear to let them roam around eating garbage, so I took them in.”

“How kind of you,” the girl said. “Obviously, the people around here don’t mind their dogs very much. I recognize some of these. They’ve been wandering from neighbourhood to neighbourhood for some time now.” Hashirama frowned.

“That’s horrible! What’s the point of getting a dog if you don’t take care of it?” he said, reaching down to pet a small sheepdog fondly. “If I could keep up with them all the time, I’d keep them all.” The girl chuckled lightly.

“I take it you like dogs then?” she asked; he beamed.

“Of course! They’re so fuzzy and friendly and fun to play with,” he said. “My brother could stand to learn a thing or two from them.”

“Your brother?”

“Tobirama,” Hashirama said without thinking. Then he blinked. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Hashirama Senju.” He held out his free hand, and she took it with her own.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mito Uzumaki,” she said. Hashirama smiled.

“That’s a lovely name. And, uh, thank you for this, really,” he said, gesturing to the leashes with another sheepish laugh. “They can get a bit rowdy sometimes.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mito said. “If you’d like, I can take you to the local shelter. I believe they had extra room the last time I was there.”

“Really?” Hashirama’s entire face lit up. “That’d be great! I’d love it if these guys could find better homes.” Mito nodded.

“It’s a fine shelter. It treats its animals well,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll be able to find good, loving families for these dogs.”

Hashirama studied the girl’s face for a moment, caught by the way she gazed so adoringly at the dogs, yet with a polite refinement to her expression that Hashirama lacked in favour of showcasing his emotions without restraint. She glanced up to meet his eyes then, and he looked away bashfully, stuttering out some half-apology for staring.

“...You attend Philadelphia University, don’t you?” she asked after a few seconds. Hashirama glanced back and nodded. “I believe I’ve seen you around once or twice. You go out to the garden with that agriculture class, don’t you?”

“That’s right.” Hashirama blinked. “Actually, I think I’ve seen you too. You’re in International Relations, right?” Mito nodded.

“I am. I can see the garden perfectly from there,” she said. Hashirama returned the smile.

“What lunch do you have? We could meet up sometime,” he offered before he could give it a second thought. Mito smiled.

“I would like that very much.”

 

**Chapter 5 - The Football Game**

 

Luckily for Hashirama and Madara, the Abraham Lincoln mascot was just as poorly made and embarrassing as they had hoped. Madara nearly pissed himself laughing as the coach had to keep lecturing Tobirama into making himself useful (i.e. waving around a banner and striking all sorts of hilarious poses). The two men made certain that the entire audience knew Tobirama’s name, their attention solely focused on cheering on the Senju rather than the football team. They ended up getting a few others into doing the same, and before long their whole section of the bleachers was clapping in sync for what must have been a fuming Tobirama under that bulbous top hat. Tobirama made sure to give them several earfuls about it on the drive back.

 

**Chapter 5 - The Basketball Game (Disambiguation)**

 

As promised (again), Madara attended Saburo’s next basketball game, accompanied by an overzealous Yagura and the Senju brothers. Without the choice distraction of a fumbling mascot to tease and torment, Madara was able to focus on the game itself and found that he understood the technicalities more through practical application. Saburo dominated the court, seemingly spurred on by Yagura’s excessive cheering, and just as well.

Madara couldn’t resist asking his roommate if he screamed that loud for Saburo in bed, only to receive a hard pinch to the underarm. He promptly demanded to switch places with Hashirama.

Overall, Madara deemed basketball more entertaining than football, finding himself so wrapped up in the game that when Saburo scored the winning point, he stood alongside the rest of the crowd to cheer. Saburo looked surprised from where he craned his neck on the court, but it quickly gave way to a wide grin and a sheepish wave that Madara felt no harm in returning. Tobirama elbowed him lightly without looking at him, and Madara quirked a brow and elbowed him back. This quickly dissolved into an aggressive battle for space that Hashirama had to break up.

(Yagura had already taken off to meet up with Saburo.)

 

**Chapter 5 - The Skatepark**

 

After learning of its existence, Tobirama made a point of telling Hashirama of the FDR Skatepark as soon as he got the chance.

“You  _ have _ to,” he pleaded, following Hashirama around the house as he collected laundry.

“Oh, come  _ on _ , Tobirama,” Hashirama said. “It’s been  _ years _ . I’ll probably just hurt myself.”

“But you  _ have _ to,” Tobirama argued. “Those punks won’t know what hit them. Come on, please? Look, I’m asking nicely.”

The brunet looked at his brother helplessly, shoulders slumping.

“Why do you want me to so badly? You were never this interested before,” he pointed out, carrying two full hampers under either arm to the laundry room.

“I always thought it was cool,” Tobirama said. “But I never got to see you do it a lot. Now’s the perfect opportunity.” Hashirama sighed.

“You won’t take no for an answer will you?” he asked. Tobirama grinned.

“Nope.”

 

At the skatepark, there were already several other skaters going about their business, and Hashirama hesitated at the edge of the pool section.

“Actually, I think I’m way okay not doing this. Let’s go back—”

“Not a  _ chance _ ,” Tobirama said, securing a vice grip on his brother’s arm and pulling him back into place. “You can’t walk away now. You want these pansies to think you’re weak?” He didn’t make an effort to keep his voice down, predictably grabbing the attention of some of the nearby skaters. Hashirama cowered under the unwanted attention.

“ _ Tobirama _ ,” he hissed. “You can’t say those things! Especially not around these kinds of people! Do you want to start a fight?”

“Hey!” someone called from atop a short ramp in the pool. Both brothers turned to look at them. “This place ain’t for loiterin’, so why don’t you an’ Snowflake go to the ice cream parlor instead?” The taunts elicited a few bouts of laughter from those around them. Hashirama’s eyebrow twitched.

“Yeah, ain’t no place for pussies. Ya gotta be tough shit to handle this terrain,” said another. “Don’t wanna ruin your pretty boy hair!” This one rolled right up to the edge before them, hitching the tip of his skateboard on the lip and puckering his lips just inches from Hashirama’s face before dropping back down into the pool with a chorus of cackles.

By the time he turned back, Hashirama was hot on his trail, his own skateboard rolling ferociously beneath him as he rapidly closed the distance between himself and his antagonist. The boy fumbled in shock and scrambled to pick up speed, eventually darting to the side to avoid the upcoming wall. Hashirama rolled right along it, perching on the edge just as the other had as he looked down at the occupants of the skating pool with a dark expression.

“ _ Do not call my baby brother a snowflake _ ,” he growled before dropping back into the pool to assert his skill and antagonize his opponents.

Tobirama didn’t even care about being called a snowflake, nor that Hashirama had referred to him as his “baby brother” in front of a bunch of adrenaline junkies. He just crossed his arms and grinned as he watched Hashirama pull off some of the sickest stunts he’d ever seen.  


 

**Chapter 7 - Ancestry**

 

After they had settled in for the night in their new house, Tobirama recalled a particular part of their conversation on the back deck earlier.

“Hey,” he started, grabbing Madara’s attention on the other side of the couch with a poke to his leg. “You mentioned your uncle earlier, didn’t you?”

Madara blinked. “Yes, Uncle Indra. Why?” Tobirama squinted.

“That name sounds familiar. What’s the last?” he asked, getting up to go sit in front of the computer as he logged into his scarcely used Facebook.

“Otsutsuki,” Madara replied, following him leisurely. “What’s wrong?” Tobirama clicked his tongue.

“I knew it. He has another brother, right? Besides your dad?” Madara nodded slowly, eyes glancing over the computer screen as Tobirama pulled up the list of relatives on Hashirama’s page (he had never bothered to add any besides Hashirama on his own). Sure enough, that surname was listed there by an “Asura”. Tobirama’s Uncle Asura.

“Absolutely not,” Madara said quickly, pulling the keyboard from Tobirama’s hands to flit his fingers over the keys. He pulled up Indra’s page, which lacked much content at all, but there was a familiar relative listed there, too.

“That’s my grandfather.”

“Don’t  _ say _ that,” Madara all but pleaded. “This has to be a mistake.” However, both Indra’s and Asura’s profiles were listed on Hagoromo’s page, along with a variety of others. Both pairs of eyes read on with growing confusion as they recognized various of their relatives. Madara’s grandmother was listed there, but not his other grandfather, and yet—

Wait. His  _ other _ grandfather. _His other grandfather!_

Madara let out a big sigh of relief, drawing his lover’s attention.

“What?”

“We are  _ not _ related,” Madara confirmed. With a less frantic pace, Madara clicked on his grandmother’s page and navigated to a picture he knew all too well. It featured her and her husband with a young Tajima between them, looking just as grumpy as Madara remembered him to be, even in the latter years of his life. Madara pointed to his grandfather. “I’m related to him,” he stated. “Not Hagoromo.” His declaration could not be disputed; the resemblance was too obvious. Upon further inspection, however, they ascertained the similarities between the Senju brothers and their grandfather, as well.

Eventually, they were able to draw out a makeshift family tree after an overdue call to Madara’s grandmother, who lived alone back in Japan now. After much foreign lecturing on how he should call more often, she ascertained that Hagoromo was not Madara’s blood relative and that Indra was, for lack of a better term, a bastard child. It was no wonder the man had been so estranged from their family and why he hadn’t ever bothered to show himself until Madara’s parents died. They learned that Hagoromo had later married the woman who gave birth to Asura, and then Butsuma, Tobirama’s father.

Madara and Tobirama rested easy. What a scare, though…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i mentioned in an earlier chapter, i'm more than willing to accept requests for other things to write in this 'verse. i quite enjoy it, and i'm considering writing a companion fic for orochimaru and jiraiya because apparently that's a thing for me now. you're all more than welcome to leave suggestions in the comments ^^
> 
> and, as always, thank you for reading !! i hope you enjoyed it ^^
> 
> EDIT: found out ao3 doesn't have a pming system so nvm about the inbox thing smh how long have i been using this site


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